Just One Look
by Valma
Summary: I know it has been a long time, but Chapter 22 is now listed! Thanks for everyone's patience, interest and encouragement over my long absence on this board. This is an ongoing look at Daphne and Niles over the years and how their relationship developed
1. Default Chapter

Just One Look  
By Valma  
Part 1: Fluff and Fold  
My Journey Through Life - Niles Crane  
As I sit now here at my desk writing these words I am reeling from an explosion of various conflicting feelings. Funny how the simple act of going over to my brother Frasier's apartment can bring with it such consternation and delight simultaneously.  
  
My intention was merely to visit him to get him to sign his moniker on a photograph for Mary, our housekeeper, who for some unfathomable reason, thinks his radio show is the fount of all wisdom. But soon after I arrived I had the distinct pleasure of being introduced to one of the loveliest creatures on the face of the earth. You may think I am exaggerating - my memory distorted by impinging factors or stress, but I am not.  
  
Her name is Daphne and without too much of a stretch of the imagination, one can easily picture this statuesque, long-legged beauty with her abundant, auburn tresses inspiring the same fervent passions in the general populous of men the way her nymph namesake did among the gods and mortals alike in classical Greece. It was just one look, one almost imperceptible, passing glance, but it shook me to the very core of my emotional foundation with all the impact of a lightning bolt. Her eyes were dark as chocolates, like the kind of truffles that you pay an exorbitant amount for in one of those shops on the Champs Élysées in Paris. Full of life and warmth. Her hand was incredibly soft as she extended it to greet me - gentle and yet full of character and self-confidence. The way she skillfully manipulated the laundry she was folding, with an air of certainty brought on with experience, but still enough attention to the task to show that caring was strongly indelible part of her personality. Not only was she strikingly beautiful, but she had the most delightful accent --- Manchester to be exact. Her voice lilted on the air like a pan flute. I can still hear her now, if I close my eyes. Sweet, soothing music for any set of tired ears. And did I mention the wonderful fragrance the wafted towards me as I stood beside her? Was it her perfume? Was it the shampoo that she used? Soap? I found myself almost struck dumbfounded by the effect her physical proximity had on me.  
  
I only met her briefly, of course, nothing more than a fleeting hello and a handshake really, but I could tell in an instant her nature was sweet, open and compassionate - someone who would be perfect in the role of a caregiver. She was hired by Frasier recently to be a live-in physical therapist for Dad, someone who will help out around the house and provide our father with the much-needed exercises to strengthen his deteriorated condition since he was so cruelly immobilized by that --- that incident in the variety store years ago.  
  
From what I have said so far, you can no doubt see where the "delight" exists in meeting such a woman, but you may be beginning to wonder, at this point of my entry, where the "consternation" that I mentioned earlier comes into play. Let me confess --- it is alive and well in the deep recesses of my soul. I always imagined that I could never be persuaded to stray from my loyalty and affection of my Maris. But let me unburden myself only to these pages of my inner most musings. When I met Daphne this afternoon, something stirred inside of me --- a wellspring of desire, which almost defied definition. It was something carnal, to be sure --- she is undeniably desirable, but it was more. She sparked a longing in me just to be near her --- to talk to her and to get her just to think of me, even if for just a transitory moment, like a footprint on an tide washed beach.  
  
I know it is foolish. I know I am committed to Maris and to the responsibility of our marriage. But, as I write these words, I also know that meeting Daphne has affected me in a way that I don't think I will soon forget. I only hope that I am able to suppress these yearnings --- bury them in an impervious vessel so that they won't seep out and disrupt my life - my calm, comfortable and orderly life - the life that I have known it for all these years with Maris. Perhaps expounding upon my feelings for Daphne in these pages will help expunge them from my being. I would regret it greatly if Maris found these rapturous records. In order to protect her, and to be totally honest - myself as well, I will confine my ardent prose on the topic of Daphne to the locked drawer in my desk at my office, far away from my home and hearth.  
  
Speaking of which, I must be on my way. Frasier thought that going out to dinner with Dad would help us bond better with him, help him through this malaise that seems to have surrounded him since his injury robbed him of his independence, and Maris is expected to be part of our entourage. This could be a delicate situation however. She has often expressed, in no uncertain terms; the distress she feels when called upon to spend time with members of my family. I do wish she accepted them more readily. Dad can appear gruff and unpolished at times, but he means well. But Maris' rejections have happened so often, now Dad doesn't even ask for an explanation when she abruptly decides that her inclusion would shatter her balance of serenity.  
  
This time I'll wager, if she doesn't accompany me, it will be Frasier who will take offense. He'll probably roll his eyes and then start prattling on about how Maris is snubbing our side and how she should be more gracious and at least join in on Crane family events. He doesn't realize how many times I have tried to talk to Maris about this --- it just isn't a simple thing to deal with. Maris can be very contumacious when it comes to matters like this. Luckily, over the years we have been together, I have learned how to adjust to her idiosyncrasies and accept Maris for whom she is. Maris simply isn't someone who was built for yielding. With me, it's easier - I have always had a penchant for negotiation and acquiescence. It's how I survived those frightful years in middle school. And that's what marriage is all about, isn't it? One of you has to be willing to bend to the wishes of your partner for the sake of connubial harmony. It's the price I pay to thwart off the loneliness of bachelorhood. Of course there have been benefits for all this compromising on my part. Maris has allowed me to enter a world that I only dreamed about in the past - a world of power and influence, access to culture and refinement, a taste of luxury and privilege. We get along well enough, we like the same pursuits --- in other words, we love each other. It's just that sometimes her eccentricities are quite a challenge to explain to Frasier. He views my détente approach to my marriage as capitulation. As if he knows anything about keeping a marriage together! Really! Sometimes his unsolicited advice is completely overbearing. I have half a mind to say something to him some day - but not tonight. Tonight we will work in tandem, like a well-oiled machine, to make a closer connection to our father - and we get to go out to Au Pied du Cochon as well!  
  
I think I will take the time to drop by the European Delicatessen on the way over to Frasier's apartment and pick up a little gift for Dad. A considerate gesture to smooth the transition from living on his own to having to be dependent on Frasier. I think --- some Devonshire Clotted Cream should pick up his spirits.  
  
Better make a note of that so I don't forget. I must take my leave now if I am going to have time to see Maris before she goes into her sensory depravation tank and hopefully she will be in a agreeable mood and accede to going to dinner with us.  
  
Adieu.  
  
* * * * * * * * * *  
Daphne's Diary  
Dear Diary:  
  
Getting used to my new residence. Both my employer and client seem like decent people. Met Dr. Crane's brother today. Nice chap, a bit of an uptight sort, but he has a gentle face and a refined manner. He is a psychiatrist, too. His name was Miles or Niles, I can't remember exactly. Perhaps I will just stick with Dr. Crane to be on the safe side, although it could get confusing if both the brothers are in the same room. But I don't expect I will be seeing too much of him. He apparently lives on the other side of town in some large mansion.  
  
Planning to go out later with some of the other girls from the agency to play poker. It should be fun.  
  
Tah-tah for now!  
Stay tuned for Part 2 (to be continued) 


	2. Chapt 2: One Dark and Stormy Night

Just One Look  
By Valma  
Part 2 : One Dark and Stormy Night  
My Journey Through Life - Niles Crane  
  
Tonight I almost cascaded down a precipice that would have led to shear disaster!  
  
Maris and I have been experiencing a little monotony in our marriage lately. I felt like we were slipping into a dark, numbing void, which was sucking the life out of our relationship. Nothing, I am sure, that other couples don't experience from time to time. When Frasier detected my "ennui", he suggested a little sexual role-playing to spice things up, but unfortunately things backfired and the end result was that Maris fled to Arizona, leaving me alone here in Seattle while she sought comfort in a mud bath in the desert.  
  
In an act of pure generosity Daphne offered to help patch things up by cooking us a dinner - a kind of a culinary "mea culpa", if I could convince her to return. I immediately called and begged Maris to come home. She agreed finally and I was looking forward to forging a newer and stronger bond with my wife, when catastrophe struck!  
  
As if all the forces of nature were against us, a violent storm, covering half the western continent, happened the very night that Maris was scheduled to return. One event tumbled into another, but suffice it to say it ended up that Daphne and I found ourselves alone in that gargantuan great room in Maris' family mansion. Maybe it was the several glasses of wine that I had downed before Daphne arrived - done purely to calm my nerves before prostrating myself before the scrutinizing eye of my loving but exacting wife. Possibly it was the driving rain, pounding on the windowpanes like the beating of fevered jungle drums, or the darkness of the night, after the electricity went out, when we were left with nothing except the flickering flames of the fireplace to illuminate the circumstances that we found ourselves in. Perhaps it was the sensual garment that Daphne changed into, since her clothes were soaked through - the way it clung to her voluptuous body, revealing just enough flesh to entice further imaginings as to what lay beneath that silky wrapper. It could have been all of those factors - or none of them! I don't know! But what I do know is, that every obsessive feeling that I had been successfully suppressing over the last few months towards Daphne came surging over me like a tsunami that night.  
  
I was out of control! I was a tumult of emotions, cravings and longings, as she stretched out before me on the Turkish carpet in front of the burning embers of the fire we had built for light and warmth. All I could see was her lush lips and doe eyes surrounded by the creamiest complexion God ever created. My nose was overwhelmed with her bouquet - musky and erotic, yet flowery and innocent. My fingers yearned to reach out and caress her smooth knolls of flesh as they rose and fell in the rhythmic pattern of her breathing. God! She was beauty personified! And she was lying there, talking in that extraordinary accent about feeling so comfortable with me, calling me kind and telling me that she felt close to me. I would have gladly swept her into my arms and carried her to my bedchamber, laid her out on those satiny sheets and shown her every carnal delight I was capable of. All I could think of was gratifying this goddess' every passionate desire. It was simply staggering.  
  
And then in an instant - it was gone. Robbed from me by a mere tintinnabulation from my past. As the glockenspiel chimed out its matrimonial memories, guilt flooded over me and washed away my appetite for this delicious aphrodisiac who knelt beside me in that darkened room. The embodiment of guilelessness, she unwittingly aided me to return to reality.  
  
"You really love her, don't you?"  
  
Her naïve remark was the slap in the face that I needed to avoid taking that next dangerous step that I had, moments before, contemplated so hungrily. I stammered out an affirmation, and when she questioned whether she could ever find true love, I assured her that she would. My compensatory reward was a chaste kiss on cheek and the title of "good friend".  
  
Good friend - an honorable enough badge and certainly one that puts everything into perspective.  
  
The chaos inside me is over. Things are back to the way they should be.  
  
When Maris finally gets home I shall hug her and tell her how much she means to me. I hope she understands and accepts my affections without too much suspicion. I need to hear her say that she loves me and tell me that everything is all right with us.  
  
Adieu.  
  
* * * * * * * * *  
Daphne's Diary  
Dear Diary:  
  
Eric is a pig!! All men are pigs!!!!!  
  
Well, not all men exactly - Dr. Crane isn't. The younger Dr. Crane, that is.  
  
Eric broke up with me. I thought we were doing just grand, but he said he had to chose to either concentrate on his music or me - and I apparently can't hold a candle to an out of tune guitar! Especially if that guitar is being held by some barstool floozy!  
  
Naturally I was feeling just horrible and wanted to hide in my bed and eat cookies all night, but I had already agreed to do a favour for Dr. Crane's brother. You see he and his wife (who is a bit of a weird duck, if you ask me) had been going through a rough patch, so I offered my services to cook up a nice dinner for them. Well, long story short and all that, the dinner was called off because she couldn't make it back home through this rather large rainstorm and Dr. Crane and I ended up spending the night talking. I told him about what Eric did to me and he was so sweet! He said the kindest things, just to make me feel better, I'm sure. I loved hearing him say that Eric was a fool for breaking up with me and that he didn't deserve me. Bloody right! Bollocks to him!  
  
Anyway, it's funny - my first impression of Dr. Crane was that he was a right old stuffed shirt, like his brother is - but he isn't. Yes, he is extremely wealthy and he does have a gazillion letters after his name, like the other Dr. Crane. But he is also someone who is very sensitive and listens really well (it isn't just a motto for a radio show for him). What I mistook in beginning as snootiness, really is just a basic shyness I think. He seems painfully tongue-tied half the time and sometimes downright clumsy, poor thing. I can't tell you the number of times he has broken things or gone crashing into fixtures of various sorts.  
  
And I don't think he is very happy.  
  
He can afford the very best of everything, so I don't know why isn't more happy. Sometimes I come into the living room and see him sitting on the couch, all alone, waiting for his older brother before they depart to some snobby sounding event, and I just want to go over an give him a hug and tell him everything is going to be O.K. Of course I don't - that wouldn't be professional or proper. Not only is he a married man, but I found out that he pays half my wages as well. As soon as he knows I am in the room though, he'll suddenly look up at me with those dark blue eyes of his and give me a cheery smile. Then he'll compliment me on my appearance, even if I am in some ratty old sweater and wearing those horrible yellow scrub gloves.  
  
Why, one of the very first times I met him, he gave me a gift of clotted cream. Oh, he said it was for his father, but I could tell he was just covering, so it didn't look too forward of him. I bet he knew that I missed some of those things that you can only get readily back home and that I couldn't afford such luxuries on my wages. Later Mr. Crane told me that his son Niles was the one who had warned him not to eat that type of stuff because of the fat content - so I know it was really a gift for me. How can someone so thoughtful be so sad most of the time?  
  
Maybe it is because of his wife. Oh, she's a strange one, she is! The few times that she has made an appearance to his brother's apartment I couldn't help but notice how snotty and cold she was to everyone, including her own husband! But he seems to be devoted to her. And that brings me full circle. He was willing to go to such trouble to apologize to her - candles, having me cook a fancy dinner for them, soft music, the finest china - just the sort of romantic setting that would set any woman's heart a-flutter. As far as I could tell he really didn't have anything to say sorry for. It was just a lot of fuss on her part over a simple misunderstanding. But still, he wanted to - what other man would have gone to so much trouble? I could tell he was so disappointed when she phoned and said that she couldn't make it. After her call he was really on edge. But in spite of all that, did he sit around moping about his own problems? No! Not at all! He seemed to go out of his way to try and make me feel better about being dumped by Eric. I think that's when I realised what a truly good person he was.  
  
And now, Diary, I am going to confess a secret that only you will know. For one brief moment, as I was telling him how glad I was that the night ended up the way it did, I found myself wishing that I was the one married to Dr. Crane and not that skinny harpy Mrs. Crane. I felt so warm and relaxed talking to him, completely secure in his presence. But I instantly realised that this was just a fleeting fantasy and not fitting at all, so I immediately put it out of my head! A grand man like Dr. Crane would no more be interested in a working-class person like me than the Queen would be in a stable boy. I know I'll find someone some day, someone that is more my type of person, but also someone who will care for me and treat me right. It may take a while --- how did Dr. Crane put it? "Some day a man worthy of you will come along --- just as soon as the gods create him." I just hope it will be sooner than later.  
  
Tah-tah for now Diary.  
Stay tuned for Parts 3 (to be continued) 


	3. Chapt 3: Niles Closes a Door and Opens a...

Just One Look  
By Valma  
Part 3: Niles Closes a Door and Opens a Beer  
My Journey Through Life - Niles Crane  
Well, I finally did what I never thought I could ever be capable of - I have separated from Maris.  
  
Even as I write these words, I still can't believe it.  
  
I --- yes, me, Niles Crane, am no longer living with Maris Bouvier Crane.  
  
A cataclysmic event in my life, to say the least - but let me recount all the events in sordid amplification.  
  
Even though it all transpired in a flurry over the past week, one could say that this has been building for a number of years. It seems Hemmingway was right all along. Things of this magnitude happen two ways - gradually and then suddenly.  
  
Maris had decided to sprint off to New York for a shopping spree and in her haste she forgot to leave me a note explaining her absence. Well, naturally, like any caring husband, I was worried when I realized she did not appear as usual at the breakfast table. But, also knowing Maris' occasional dark moods and her resultant habit of isolating herself from me, and the rest of the household, I didn't fear anything too desperate had happened to her. I had seen if before - the locked doors, the stony refusal to communicate no matter how hard I pleaded with her to tell me what was the source of her vexation was. As long as she had her pills and a telephone, she usually sequestered herself away for a day or two until her anger dissipated. Then in a whirlwind of ostrich feathers and pink silk, she would make a grand entrance proclaiming that changes would be in order if harmony was to be restored. But this time, as her truancy stretched over her usual time limit, my assumption that she was just expressing her displeasure at some transgression on my part, began to falter and by the third day I did a thorough search of the buildings and grounds to ascertain her whereabouts. When she was not to be found, my disposition shifted into the panic gear and hurriedly I solicited my family's help to locate my missing wife. It was on Dad's discovery that she was racking up credit card receipts by the fistful in "The City That Never Sleeps", that Frasier candidly observed that Maris' conduct was just not acceptable any more. My brother coolly stated that she should be held accountable for the worry and stress that she had brought upon those who cared for her.  
  
At first I protested, insisting that I was accustomed to her peculiar habits and seemingly bizarre humors and that Maris' behavior didn't really bother me. But as Frasier bore into my arguments I was painfully aware that these issues did indeed hurt and anger me and, if our relationship had any meaning at all, they would have to be addressed.  
  
Later, spurred on by Frasier's astute remarks I summoned up the courage and confronted Maris about her thoughtless actions. Needless to say, she was not very amused at my effrontery. Initially she just sat there silently staring at me, not blinking an eyelash. After I had said my piece, I waited a bit and was met by only the sharp tapping of her lacquered nails on the arm of the settee. I then proceeded to make a hasty retreat to Frasier's, although I did it with enough gusto that it could be interpreted as a "Grand Exit" of some sort. I told myself repeatedly, as I drove through the rain washed streets, that I wasn't really so much running from Maris' eventual reaction, as I was letting her mull over what I had said in private and thus hopefully she would realize the seriousness of the situation. But I will admit, now that I am alone with my thoughts, that I was truly fearful that if I stayed my brave resolve to stand my ground and demand some worthwhile dialogue would collapse like a house made out of cards in a typhoon. Any display of needy tears or trenchant harangues about my lack of heart on her part, would have found me in a state of total submission to her manipulative manners. God, I am such a feeble milquetoast sometimes!  
  
I was shaking inside and out by the time I got my brother's apartment. Thankfully no welcoming committee was there when I arrived, so I just let myself in with a key that I had acquired in case of emergencies. If what had just happened to me didn't fit the description of a crisis, then I don't know what definition could!  
  
The apartment was dark and I sat myself down on the sofa to regain my composure. I was mentally and physically drained. Never had I ever raised my voice at Maris, let alone issued her an ultimatum before. I had unceasingly tried to be calm and rational with her throughout our many years together. In the past, I had dug deep into my bag of psychological tricks and used many different approaches to coax her out of her dark dispositions. I was a trained therapist after all, and Maris was a person whom I loved dearly and was in dire need of attention. Many a time, usually after some particularly harrowing episode, Maris would tearfully whimper in my arms like a little child, professing in whispered tones the absolute urgency for me to stay beside her forever. She never came right out and threatened suicide, but it was definitely implied in her desperate demeanor. No one had ever needed me so much before in my life. If I wasn't capable of extending myself to her, of finding the source of her hostility and pain, what right did I have to consider myself a healer of the mind for any of my patients?  
  
And now, here I was - virtually demanding that she see my side for once and consider how her actions had impacted on me as well. I was admitting that all my attempts at trying to help Maris had accomplished nothing. So I had finally resorted to just shouting out my terms and fleeing. Some psychiatrist I was! It was shattering to my ego and to the sheltered concept of my life, as I had known it. I felt like I didn't know who I was any longer. I stumbled to the kitchen and flung open the fridge. The harsh light behind the door blinded me at first. The first item my eyes fell upon was a six-pack of my father's Ballentine beer. What the hell --- the old Niles was dead! Here was the new, more callous Niles - who tossed out mandates to his wife as if he was dressing down an insolent store clerk. The old Niles would have quietly drown his sorrows sipping on a bouquet of hearty aging grapes from Bordeaux, masking his disappointments in erudite explanations and rational reasonings. But I didn't even know who that fellow was now, not after what I had just done! I reached in and grasped the package of cold brews with a decisive snap of my fingers. Flipping the living room lights on, I plopped down into Dad's chair and downed the contents of one of the cans in three large gulps. A large instinctive eructating sound issued from my lips. I was finally free of the bonds of civility that had tethered me to Maris' bottomless requirements!  
  
I quaffed another beer and closed my eyes. A vague sensation of floating came over me. I was my own man now. She would have to answer to me! It was my serve and I had left the ball in her court and would await her countering movement. She would have to face the fact that I had feelings too! I tipped my head back and drained the remaining suds from the can. No wonder Dad liked these fizzy concoctions! Unlike wine, which requires time to develop into a taste in your mouth, these slid down your throat with the greatest of ease - cool and slightly bitter. Just like my feelings towards Maris now. I heard myself laugh out loud. I popped the ring on another Ballentine. The room swayed a bit as I lurched out of the chair to seek out a new supply of refreshment.  
  
My search was shortly interrupted by the sound of Frasier entering the apartment. After a brief but inspiring conversation, in which my brother shoaled up my bravado and staved off any remaining doubt as to whether I had taken the correct course of action, my support session was broken by the jangling of the telephone. Frasier informed me that it was Maris calling and I gleefully noted that he calculatedly let her dangle for a moment or two before handing the receiver over to me. It was like a giant game of chess. Every move was wrought with implications of advantage or disadvantage for one of the players. I was hoping my desperate gambit would pay off and Maris would announce that she was willing to listen to me and save our relationship, as I took a deep breath and held the phone up to my ear.  
  
I can't tell you now just exactly what transpired in the fleeting conversation. After she said the word "divorce" a loud buzzing sound overtook me and I thought I was going to pass out. Before that call, I could at least have imagined she cared enough to make the effort to see my side. Now it was confirmed - she didn't think I was worth the effort.  
  
It was a cruel and fatal blow.  
  
The next few hours were mostly a blur of headaches and hyperventilation, trying to contact Maris and talk to her. I persistently kept at it for about forty minutes, but I knew it would end in failure. Maris is a virtuoso of intractability. Finally Dad suggested that I give up and go to bed and offered me the use of Frasier's room. It was a generous overture, but unfortunately as it turned out, a wasted one. Sleep was simply not a partner on my dance card that night, and after an hour of twisting and turning in the bed, I finally decided to see if a bit of nourishment would help calm my mutilated psyche.  
  
The rest of the apartment was quiet, as I softly crept my way to the kitchen. It struck me momentarily when I was prowling through the refrigerator that, if I was billeted in Frasier's bed, Daphne in her room and Dad in his, just where was my older brother at this hour? He should have been asleep on the couch if my calculations were correct, but it was strangely uninhabited. I was in the process of carving up a piece of Gruyere and contemplating using my cell phone to contact Frasier, when suddenly Daphne's voice broke through my deliberations.  
  
With all that had happened in the past twelve hours I hadn't even noticed her presence in the house. It was like she had consciously kept a respectful distance, retiring to her room quickly when she came in, letting Dad and Frasier deal with my agitation over the situation with Maris, knowing that this was something that was best handled by family members. Consequently, when she called out my name in that lilting voice of hers, I was so startled I dropped the knife that I was using and sliced myself as a result.  
  
The blood trickled out and formed a ruby-colored blotch in the sink below. I felt the room grow dim and my knees started to involuntarily buckle. I turned around and saw Daphne coming towards me asking me if everything was all right, but I couldn't say anything in reply. Slowly I slid down the cupboard doors and felt the hard, cold tiles of the floor greet my buttocks. I'm not quiet sure if I actually fainted, but I was at least in a state of complete incapacitation when Daphne scooped up my hand and bundled my wounded finger into a tea towel. Her words of scolding were gentle and sympathetic.  
  
"Oh, I am soooo sorry Dr. Crane! I didn't mean to startle you. You really should be more careful, Dr. Crane. After everything that has happened to you today, you don't need to add a cut finger to your list of troubles, do you now? Just stay down here and I'll get a bandage for you."  
  
I closed my eyes and let the scent of her nearness waft over me. Forget food - having her so close and alone with me was sustenance enough. I felt like this precious moment could sustain me for months.  
  
She chattered as she searched the drawer for the aloe cream and a dressing for my wound.  
  
"Joe often nicks his hands on the tools he uses. I tell him to be more careful but you know - he's a rugged man and doesn't pay any heed!"  
  
My heart cringed at that sentence.  
  
Did I tell you Daphne has a boyfriend?  
  
His name is Joe and he's a contractor and a real --- hunk. At least that is how she describes him.  
  
Me --- I'm still a good friend, someone who helped Joe ask Daphne out on a date when he came over to Frasier's apartment one day to repair a floor. It was Frasier's idea, but I eventually saw his point and went along with it. Daphne deserves happiness - no matter what my opinion is of the kind of man she is attracted to.  
  
So I shelved my longings and illusions and played the role of "chum" --- and there are benefits. We have long talks on occasion, like when I go with her to the dogpark with Eddie. We exchange laughs and stories, when I visit. She smiles at me and I get to be in the same room as her. She trusts me and I --- I adore her more each day.  
  
And sometimes, sometimes if I am really lucky, I cut myself and she is there, in the dead of the night, to come to my aid.  
  
Which brings me back to my story.  
  
She was so kind to me that night. The tenderness in her touch as she bandaged my sliced finger was as if she was handling a butterfly's wing. After she had finished, she stroked my hand. It was like a dream. I watched mindfully as she bent her head down and kissed my "boo-boo", as she called it. The whole world seemed to stop and I hung onto that moment until she raised her head up again and smiled.  
  
"Feeling better?"  
  
I wanted to say yes and express my gratitude to her for her compassion towards me, but my emotions overwhelmed me and all I could do was stare blankly at her while tears poured down from my eyes.  
  
Not exactly a "hunky, manly" thing to do, right?  
  
But nevertheless, there I was crying like a baby, while Daphne in a state of anxiousness, settled down beside me and cradled me in her arms, rocking me to and fro, in an effort to help me regain my composure.  
  
"Dr. Crane, don't fret," she said soothingly. "I know it's not my place to comment on your personal life, but I just know your wife will recognize her mistake and forget all this nonsense. She'll see the blunder she's made and take you back. Please don't worry."  
  
When I heard this, it only made me gush more waterworks. I wasn't crying because of what Maris had done to me, exactly. I was weeping because I knew I never would achieve the kind of closeness with my own wife, that I was experiencing during that moment with Daphne, as we sat huddled together on the kitchen floor. Even if the damage to our marriage was successfully repaired, Maris was just not capable of being as open and giving to me as Daphne was that night. A moan of frustration escaped from my lips. Daphne held me tighter and cooed kind-hearted words meant to ease my burdened soul, in my ear. Such a profusion of attention - all for someone she considered to be only a comrade. It was almost a palatable type of torture being the recipient of such largesse. I could only imagine what bountiful intimacies she could divulge when motivated by even stronger feelings. The flood continued down my reddened face unabated. But I was also mourning the loss of my innocence, as I looked back to the time when I thought that the meager affection that Maris once doled out in miniscule amounts at her pleasure, was the zenith of what love was about. Daphne's generosity of spirit had shown me that I had been living in the mere shadow of love for all these years and I desperately wanted now to move into the sunlight and enjoy all the warmth that love had to offer. I couldn't go back to the darkness. I knew I would die inside if I were forced into that emotional cave after such a revelation.  
  
Eventually my tears ran dry and I slumped exhausted in her arms. She sat there on the cold floor, holding on to me, giving me the occasional hug, until I made the decision to end it.  
  
I simply mumbled "Thank you Daphne for being so understanding," and struggled to my feet. I couldn't look at her. I felt too vulnerable and I thought if I gazed into her eyes I would surely break into a thousand pieces.  
  
I hurried back to Frasier's bedroom and buried myself in the covers. The last thing I remember, as I drifted off to sleep, was feeling a sensation of renewed determination to make sure that I would handle myself with more dignity in front of others from now on. I would simply have to build up a wall to protect myself from ever breaking down like I had just done. I have to face my situation and get on with my life. My relationship with Maris has definitely taken a path that I never would have forseen a couple of years ago. Hopefully we can come to some understanding and work things out, but I don't think it will ever be like it was in the past. It is a bit frightening to go this far out on an emotional limb. But I do have people to support me. I have my family - Frasier and Dad will be there for me if I need them, of that I am sure. And I have Daphne --- as a friend.  
  
I will have deal with my life as it is.  
  
For now, that's all I have.  
  
Adieu.  
  
* * * * * * * *  
Daphne's Diary  
  
Dear Diary:  
  
Poor Dr. Crane! Things are really looking bleak for him at the moment.  
  
I am certain I was witness to him having an emotional break down last night. I tried to help him as much as possible, but he didn't seem too comforted by my efforts. I don't think I have ever seen a grown man cry quite so much. Even my brother Billy, and he was an especially delicate sort of lad  
  
But who can blame Dr. Crane? That shrew of a wife is putting him through such an emotional wringer! He gave us all quite a start this morning when we woke to find him gone. True to his nature, though, he left a note explaining that he didn't want to be a burden on us any longer. Only minutes later, he burst into the apartment in a complete frenzy, prattling on about getting an "bachelor pad" and joining a gym. It didn't take a psychiatrist to see that he was over-reacting to the traumatic events that his wife had put him through the day before.  
  
I'm not going to tell his brother and father about how I found him in the kitchen late last night and how he fell completely apart when he got the smallest nick on his finger. Maybe I should --- he seemed positively unstable at one point, wailing away like a little child! But I just wouldn't feel right doing it. I'd think it would be like I was violating some sacred vow. I know it's silly, but it would be the same as tattling on him - breaking his trust. He's always been so kind to me - treats me like a princess when he's over visiting, instead of like the hired help.  
  
On the other hand, I'm glad his father and brother went with him today to gather his things and move him into his own apartment. He needs lots of support until he gets on his feet, I'll reckon. I think I'll make all his favourite foods for dinner the next time he is over for an evening.  
  
I'm sure hope things work out for him. I know Frasier went over last night to talk to his wife, but she would hear none of it apparently. But, maybe she just needs time to cool off and think about what a good thing she has in him. I know very few married men who dote on their wives so much. He is always buying her gifts - some of them quite expensive too! And the way he used to talk about her - you'd think she was the "Queen of Sheba"! If he wants to get back with her, I hope he does - if it that is what will make him happy. I just hope he doesn't get his heart broken. Joe told me that one time when he was working at their house, he was absolutely certain the missus made a pass at him. Nothing came of it, of course. He told her to sod off as nicely as possible - he didn't want to lose the job. But I can't help wondering if she has tried this with others - tradesmen, door- to-door salesmen, her yoga instructor --- who knows? I would just hate to see him get hurt by that woman!  
  
Well, I'm off - Joe's coming tonight and taking me out to the show. The doctors Crane and their dad are going out to dinner, so I have to walk Eddie before I leave, or Frasier's precious carpet will suffer by the end of evening.  
  
Tah-tah for now!  
  
Stay tuned for Part 4 (to be continued) 


	4. Chapt 4: We Should Have Danced All Night

Just One Look  
By Valma  
Part 4: We Should Have Danced All Night  
Daphne's Diary  
  
Dear Diary:  
  
Joe left yesterday to go on a job in Bellingham for the next three weeks. I'll miss him but I understand that in his line of work it is often necessary to travel. Perhaps while he's gone I'll buy some sexy new lingerie --- Joe likes it when I wear something hot when we make love. Things are rolling along just fine between the two of us, although I wished we talked more. He's great in bed and a kind and thoughtful person to be around, but we don't have much to say to each other sometimes. Why just the other day when Dr. Crane went with me on a walk with Eddie, he said that communication was the cornerstone of a good relationship. He's very smart, so maybe that is something Joe and I can work on.  
  
Tah-tah - got to run Diary!  
  
* * * * * * *  
Dear Diary:  
  
I just found out that Dr. Crane is going to the East Coast for the next nine days to spend some time with his son. That should make things a bit easier for me. Not that Frasier is that horrible or anything like that, but he is the "boss" and sometimes his exacting standards about his precious African artifacts can be a bit much. With Joe gone that will make my life pretty quiet for the next little while - just Mr. Crane and me in the apartment for the week and no one to go out with either. Well, I am sure the other Dr. Crane will be about to visit. He usually pops in on a regular basis now, especially since he and his wife have separated. I hope he does - no one else seems to have the patience that he does to listen to my stories about my various family members. Mr. Crane just seems to get bored after about the first ten minutes and the other Dr. Crane just rolls his eyes the minute I start up. But Dr. Crane seems to really enjoy my tales. Sometimes he's the one that gets me going - asking me the latest family news from England. Well, I should get going to the shops, if we are going to have dinner tonight, so I got to run!  
  
Tah-tah for now!  
  
* * * * * * *  
My Journey Through Life - Niles Crane  
Agony and ecstasy.  
  
Rhapsody and rejection.  
  
That's all that's left of me, after tonight. And Daphne --- Daphne is the unwitting wellspring of both of these emotions.  
  
That's the great paradox of my so-called life. She is the reason I feel alive at all really, that I cherish even one moment of my miserable mortal existence. At the same time, she is also the source of my worst felt anguish, the root of such unrequited cravings and feelings of inadequacy that I can barely stand to look at myself in the mirror some days.  
  
But just one kind word of sympathy or smile out of her, can send my heart into a kind of delight that is almost breathtaking in its intensity. Just one look in my direction, one fortuitous glance from her, is enough to make me giddy for days on end. You might judge me to be of feeble character because of these admittances, but the true power of her intoxicating beauty, in spirit and in body, is impossible to register on this page in printed words. So, what was I to do, faced with the omnipotence of her affect on me and when, after suffering repeated humiliation at the hands of Maris, she offered to help me regain some semblance of self-respect and confidence? Of course I said yes to her invitation of kindness.  
  
Besides it all started out innocently enough. All sorts of debacles often do.  
  
I had come over to the apartment to keep Dad company while Frasier was away on vacation with Freddie, and yes, admittedly, to complain about the fact that Maris seemed to be flaunting her latest inamorato in the society pages of the daily paper every chance she got. That day it was Pierson Broadwater, but he was just one of many. It was like she was going out of her way to personally demonstrate to me in a very public way, that not only would our separation not put a crimp in her social calendar, but also that the sum total of my worth to her was negligible at best. With every new picture of her clinging to some paramour's beefy arm, or latest snippet of cruel gossip that landed conveniently at my doorstep, my melancholy greatened. Each time I encountered someone from the upper echelons of Seattle's aristocracy, they pointedly reminded me that Maris was "doing just fine and having the time of her life." Then they'd give me a forlorn, faux-compassionate look and ask how I was "managing". Poor Niles! Poor, lonely, devastated Niles, the Quasimodo of the Emerald City's social scene, discarded like an old Playbill program from last year's theater season.  
  
Well, the cumulative effect of this campaign by Maris and her minions was that I eventually became buried in a wretched quagmire of despondency.  
  
Funny enough, it was Dad who inspired me to "screw my courage to the sticking place" and ask a certain Marjorie Nash to accompany me to the next scheduled event of the season - the glamorous "Snow Ball" dance.  
  
I know what you must be thinking --- why didn't I solicit Daphne as an escort, since she stirred such passions in me?  
  
One word - Joe. Enough said.  
  
At any rate, there I was, awash in a flood of self-congratulatory swaggering over my new found assertiveness, when Dad deflated my ego in an instant with a reminder that I didn't know the first thing about dancing. Since that seemed to be an absolute requirement of an event of this sort, I naturally was thrown into a state of panic with this realization.  
  
Then, like an answer to my desperate worries, Daphne proposed that if I was lacking in the skills of rhythmic mobility, then she would willingly be my teacher to save my date with the notorious heiress.  
  
I was in a pure state of rapture for the next few hours. There I was, actually holding Daphne in my arms, feeling the weight of her body pressed up against mine, as I was enveloped by her fragrant aura. Never before had I been so physically close to her for such a sustained amount of time! Of course, she exuded all sorts of warm affability, but never once stepped over the bounds of friendship into impropriety. And neither did I really - except within the confines of my own mind.  
  
That was all right. It was a harmless fantasy. I knew that she and I were not fated to anything more than camaraderie that night. But I reveled in it all the same. It was just that --- well to be truthful, save Daphne, whom else did I have in my life to stimulate my libido during these dark days of abandonment? Maris, the only woman I have ever been remotely intimate with, was certainly not available. She was too busy wagging a vengeful war on me, since I had the audacity to stand up to her. I know it sounds pitiful, almost ludicrous, that I would have to resort to flights of romantic fancy with Daphne, a woman who would never return my affections, to satisfy my carnal urges. But such was the condition of my life. I told you it was miserable.  
  
And about to get worse.  
  
When my date suddenly cancelled, I knew I should have informed Daphne that the dance lessons were over and just gone off and had a cold shower, but I couldn't. I kept living in my illusion --- Daphne and I were so good together. I felt so relaxed with her. She seemed so tolerant of me. We danced and talked and laughed. She was patient and attentive and sooooo enchanting. I --- I was mesmerized by all her charms. We gave each other little pet names and shared in-jokes that just the two of us understood. Plain and simple - I just didn't want it to end. It was the only gratification I had in the dull numbness that was my reality.  
  
Dad was disgusted when he accidentally found out last Friday at Nervosa what was going on. He gave me the standard lecture about how this could get away on me and I might injure the possibility of a genuine friendship developing between the two of us. At first I put up a shallow attempt to discourage her from continuing, but when she insisted on going with me to the dance in Marjorie's place, I simply shunted aside any apprehensions and let my erogenous reveries overrule my powers of rationalism.  
  
To her it was just a chance to dress up and go out to a fancy ball with a friend to restore his sagging spirits. To me it was the impossible dream come true. As I drove to pick her up on Saturday, I convinced myself that I could keep a lid on my feelings and then neither one of us would get hurt. But I couldn't possibly let this opportunity slip away - I was going out on a date with Daphne! In the back of my head I could hear tiny voices questioning as to whether this was the wisest coarse of action, but the minute I saw her, I pushed those whispers of hesitation into a mental strongbox and threw away the key. There she was, in a brilliant scarlet dress, her long flowing mane of hair falling over her bare, pearly white shoulders and a sparkle in her eyes that telegraphed her unbridled enthusiasm for whatever adventures the night would bring.  
  
It's strange how the luxury of reflection allows someone to look back and compartmentalize the events that followed.  
  
Agony and ecstasy, rhapsody and rejection - two separate and distinct worlds that I lived through that night.  
  
First, let me rhapsodize about the ecstasy ---  
  
Daphne was everything I imagined - vivacious, stunningly beautiful, gracious and unselfish in her attention to me, someone that was simply delighted to be included in this grand soiree. She allowed me to parade her shamelessly around the ballroom, smugly showing her off like a prized possession. And what a resplendent display she made! She cavorted and whirled on the dance floor with me by her side, in a blaze of sanguine silk. She wantonly flirted with me, until the mouths of my detractors were suitably left gaping in astonishment. My beatitude seemed boundless.  
  
But that's where the agony comes in. That's when things began to fall apart. I certainly didn't restrain myself, or keep my feelings "corked", as Dad would have said. In a scene that I will live over and over in my mind's eye, at the climax of a blood-pounding tango, I ceded to my passions and blurted out her that I adored her. It is a particularly cruel irony that she mistook my earnest divulgence as part of our little counterfeit coquetry and decided to play along with the supposed charade. We ended the dance with a long, deep kiss and I knew I would never be the same again. I felt as if I had experienced something divine - a true epiphany.  
  
Of course I thought her ardent response was genuine and for one ephemeral moment I believed that I had truly been reborn with the touch of her lips against mine. My life suddenly had meaning. I felt such a rush of ebullience, that all the misery and degradation that Maris had inflicted on me, all my insecurities and fears, all the loneliness that I had endured over the years, just melted away in that brief and shining moment. And that's what makes the pain that I now endure all the more crushing. The dizzying loftiness, to which my euphoria carried me, essentially guaranteed that when reality struck, and her imminent rejection of me as a possible suitor came, the descent would be grievously hard and fast.  
  
And it was.  
  
"We fooled everyone, didn't we?"  
  
Those words corkscrewed into my heart and pulled out my very soul.  
  
We certainly did - especially me. But I know that was because I wanted to be tricked - I let myself hear her words and willingly put my own spin on their meaning.  
  
She was just acting - I wasn't. But I had to feign as if I was, once I realised the truth of her feelings. It was my only recourse. If I had persisted and reaffirmed my adulation of her, she still would have declined my overtures. And then we would have been left with nothing except that awkwardness that Dad had warned me about earlier. In a cold, sobering instant, I knew that for sure. Never once had she ever indicated that I was the type of man she would be interested in as a lover. I was merely a male version of a "girlfriend" in her eyes. All the beaus she talked about - past, present and hoped for in the future, were virile, burly types, rugged monuments to brawn and bravado. Joe was obviously the archetype of her ideal man - long on masculinity and pulchritude, short on erudition and sophistication. I often heard a tone of incredulousness in her voice, when anyone suggested that maybe she should go for someone more refined and cultured for a change. What chance did I ever have?  
  
None apparently.  
  
And so I have decided to redouble my efforts to mend my marriage with Maris.  
  
When I reflect on it honestly, if I would have made more of an exertion to seek a solution over the past few months, rather than wasting so much energy on whining about my problems with Maris, there might have been some progress with our troubles. Upon reflection I can see my culpability in this stalemate that we currently find ourselves in.  
  
Perhaps I can convince her to come with me and get some outside counseling.  
  
There must be some part of her that still cares for me. Maybe some skilled therapist can tap into those feelings and help us renew the commitment we once had for each other. It's worth a try at least.  
  
I've come to understand after what transpired on the dance floor tonight, that even a defective "real" relationship is better than a one-sided illusory one. It's all I have left - except, luckily, my friendship with Daphne. That is real. If I ever lost that --- I don't know what I would do. But, right now I need something more. I just want to feel loved, honestly loved, by someone - that's all.  
  
Adieu.  
  
* * * * * * * * *  
Daphne's Diary  
Dear Diary:  
  
What a week it turned out to be! Not quiet at all really. First - the younger Dr. Crane - Niles, needed someone to teach him how to dance so he could go to a fancy reception and of course I said yes. What's the use of having a brother who was a ballroom dancer if I couldn't put all those hours of being tutored by him to good use to help out a dear, sweet friend? We had great fun all week prancing up a storm to all sorts of tunes. It turns out all he needed were a few lessons and before long he was hoofing it with the best of them!  
  
But that was just the beginning!  
  
When his date cancelled I talked him into letting me come along to the ball in her place. I know it was a bit forward of me and I guess it might be looked upon as taking advantage of his situation, but Joe would never been able to take me to something like that and I was just curious as to what it would be like. Dr. Crane has always been a perfect gentleman with me, so I wasn't worried about anything improper happening. He knew it wasn't a real date or anything like that - just two friends getting together really.  
  
Besides, there's another reason that I felt like I should go with him. It's a bit complicated but I'll try to explain. It has to do with him splitting from his wife. He doesn't seem to be handling it too well. She seems to me to be hell-bent on making him as miserable as possible and is succeeding quite nicely, thank you! I had always suspected right from the beginning, when I first met her, that she was a very difficult sort, but now I think she is --- well, quite wicked, truth be told. It's like she cast a spell on Dr. Crane to get him to love her all those many years ago and he can't yet fully break the hex she has on him, even though they are officially separated. She knows the right buttons to press to send him into a tailspin of gloomy despair and she has been pushing all of them ever since he left her. But I also just found out that she's been like that right from day one with him. Over the past few months, after noticing that every time he came over he just moped about in a black depression, I cautiously broached the subject with Mr. Crane. Well, he told me stories about her past behavior that would curl your hair! I always knew that Mr. Crane couldn't stand her, but after hearing about the way she has treated poor Dr. Crane and the rest of the family and seeing her in action, I actually started to resent every time her name was mentioned.  
  
Mr. Crane told me that when he was shot, Mrs. Crane refused to call on him in the hospital and even tried to get Dr. Crane to cut back on his visits. He could never prove anything, but Mr. Crane said that it was sure bet that every time Dr. Crane came to see him, she would phone him with some trumped up emergency, demanding that he return home. Of course this put Dr. Crane in a very difficult position, having to chose between his wife and his injured father. If he delayed leaving, even for a few minutes, she would contact him again, and resort to hysterics to get what she wanted. Now, I know the brothers haven't always been on the best of terms with their father, and it isn't really my place to pass judgement on anyone, but I can only imagine how antics like this would drive an even larger wedge between Mr. Crane and his son. It's such a shame.  
  
But it wasn't just Mr. Crane's stories that had me convinced that she was someone quite nasty. I also knew this from first hand experience from whenever she made a rare guest appearance to the apartment. She'd sit throughout dinner, silently eyeing up everyone, waiting like a hawk to pounce on an unsuspecting victim. When she did finally speak her conversations were filled of unkind, frosty remarks, mostly directed towards people whom she considered beneath her social standing. Included in this rather large group, surprisingly enough was her own husband, Dr. Crane. Every so often she would pointedly remind him that if it weren't for her money he'd still be in "some grubby little hospital, more in likely cleaning bedpans". It must have been so embarrassing for him to hear this dribble. He should have just told her off, but true to his gentle nature, he never returned her volley and would just sit there, absorbing her cruelties like one of those beat up punching bags in a gym.  
  
The only time I saw him mutiny at all was when a particularly barbed comment was aimed at me once. Usually she just ignored me, like I was part of the furniture, but that night she was in an exceptionally foul mood. She started to fuss about the way I was serving the tea, saying that since I was English it might be expected that I could at least be civilized enough to know how to pour a decent cup. Well, that seemed to send Dr. Crane into a right tizzy! I suspect his innate sense of fairplay kicked in and it just upset him that she would attack someone who was only a powerless employee. Mr. Crane had told me later that Dr. Crane often interceded on behalf of his own house staff when there were problems with Mrs. Crane. Of course, he didn't dare chastise "Her Majesty" openly, but I could tell he was just beside himself. His eye grew wide and he started to huff and puff like he had running a twelve-mile race. He began to fidget so bad that I thought his trousers were on fire! Knowing my place, I didn't say a word, but managed to flounce off to the kitchen with enough aplomb, that I think she knew that I was miffed. She insisted on leaving shortly after that, but before they went, Dr. Crane made some feeble excuse to come into the kitchen and apologize to me for her behavior. He actually had tears in his eyes. I told him not to worry and that we all had our bad days, so Mrs. Crane was allowed one as well. That was said entirely for his benefit - not hers! If I had appeared upset at what she had said, it would have troubled him even more and I didn't want him suffering for her wrong. So I just let him think that I wasn't hurt by what she had done. He still insisted on making it up to me somehow. As he spoke, he reached out and clasped my hand to make his point. I couldn't help but notice that his hands were trembling! I assured him that wasn't necessary, but the next day he sent a lovely bouquet of flowers to me anyway.  
  
That was only two weeks before he left her.  
  
And now here he was, in dire need of someone to help him show the world that he wasn't just a spineless sap waiting for her to take him back. He was always so supportive of me when I was feeling the least bit blue, now it was my turn to step up and be there for him! That's what being a friend is all about, isn't it? If I hadn't insisted on him taking me to the "Snow Ball" I know he would have called the whole thing off and spent the night alone, just like Mrs. Crane would have wanted him to. And he would have opened himself up to more idle gossip about how much of a sadsack he was, which naturally would have made its way back to Mrs. Crane and proven her point. I just couldn't let that happen to him!  
  
So I convinced him that I would love a night out and it was a good thing I did. We weren't at the dance a good ten minutes and I overheard a couple hoity-toits giving Dr. Crane the gears about how his wife was enjoying herself so. He put up a brave front, but I could tell he was really smarting from their comments. I decided right then and there, that I should put on a show for all of those snooty so-called friends of his. I would be his adoring female companion for the evening and make him the envy of man there! Let them take that back to his witch of a wife!  
  
What a time we had! He was so gallant! We danced like two people possessed. The orchestra played, the champagne flowed - I felt like I was Cinderella! And Dr. Crane performed like the perfect Prince Charming that night. I was so proud of him! You should have seen the mouths of the gossipy onlookers as we twirled around the floor. It was glorious! The crowning touch was when we danced the tango. The rest of the revelers just melted away to the sidelines, leaving the two of us in the spotlight. All eyes were on Niles and me as we whirled and spun through the passionate steps of the dance. I have to admit that I let myself get a bit carried away, but it was so easy - the throbbing music, the closeness of such a graceful companion, the excitement of being looked at by so many eyes and knowing that I was in a knock-out of a dress. I played the part of the alluring love goddess to the hilt. He was delightfully responsive to our little fake flirtation. I was sure I heard a collective gasp from the crowd, when we ended our dance in a sexy kiss and glided off the floor in each other's arms. That showed them!  
  
I'm so glad we went to the ball together! Dr. Crane needed a boost to his self- confidence; I had the time of my life! It all worked out perfectly!  
  
You want to know a secret? I really enjoyed Dr. Crane's kiss. He doesn't look like the type to be a great smacker, but surprisingly he is. His lips are really soft and he smells wonderfully yummy when you are in close like that, as well. He left me quite breathless, actually. Of course, it was all for show and didn't mean anything really, so I'll just file that bit of information in my mind's "odds'n ends" box.  
  
Got to get some sleep!  
  
Tah-tah for now Diary!  
  
Stay tuned for Part 5 (to be continued) 


	5. Chapt 5: Used Hearts for Sale or Rent

Just One Look  
By Valma  
Part 5: Used Hearts for Sale or Rent  
  
My Journey Through Life - Niles Crane  
My life is bereft of any kind of contentment.  
  
I am trying to express what I am truly feeling within the confines of these pages lately to maintain my last shred of sanity that I have left in my possession.  
  
But nothing can make me feel better really.  
  
My efforts to reconnect with Maris have met with tepid results. Sometimes I believe we have a real chance to work through our problems, but then she turns contrary and refuses to continue attending our therapy sessions. It is exhausting trying to anticipate her manipulations to sabotage any progress we have accomplished. Lately I feel like I am just a marionette and she controls the strings to my life. She seems to be just biding her time, putting me through a twisted kind of tribulation until I grow weary and capitulate to her will.  
  
For every little success I have won, like getting her to go to counseling with me, I have lost a multitude of battles. Maris has many failings, but I have never underestimated her shrewdness, especially in the fine art of cataloguing human foibles - mine in particular. She knows I am markedly unnerved when it comes to the enticement of sex. Perhaps it is because I had been put on a virtual starvation diet, far below subsistence levels for any red-blooded man, even when we were a couple. Now that we are separated an increasingly larger portion of my waking and sleeping hours are taken up with being completely engrossed in thoughts of libidinous wants and unstated desires. So when Maris dangled the promise of an evening of satisfying my carnal appetite in front of me, in order to get me to agree to switch therapists again, I had all the resistance of a stag in the midst of rutting season. I swallowed my pride and sensibility, hastened over to her house and gorged myself with debauchery like one of those malnourished waifs in Oliver hungrily consuming their ration of gruel. It wasn't until the next day, when my intense fixation on seeking sexual relief had dissipated that I suddenly realised what she had done and felt nauseated. But by that time it was too late.  
  
Frasier tried to stop me from prostituting myself, warning me that I should defer having sex with Maris until she responded more positively to our therapy sessions. Naturally he was right. But at the time, I was so desperate for some close human contact that it just seemed like he was being churlish and endeavoring to make me more miserable. So I tossed aside his admonition, as I probably always will when I fall victim to my vulgar urges, and placed Maris' boot heel on my throat for the sake of thirty minutes of sensual indulgence.  
  
Sometimes I just wish I were someone else.  
  
For one short evening I actually was someone else. It happened yesterday in fact. An old boyfriend of Daphne's --- well, she called him her fiancé --- showed up and right out of the blue and she solicited me to become her husband for a night! It was all playacting and she unceremoniously disposed of me when she found out that the muscular Clive was more successful than she first thought, but for a short-lived moment I got to embrace her and kiss her and fantasize that we were man and wife. Even though I felt painfully used by the end of the evening, it was worth it. I agreeably was a contributor in my own distress. Yes, I realize the irony that Daphne was, in her own way, using me much like Maris, but there was one major difference. What happened with Daphne and me that night was spontaneous. It was an unpremeditated reaction to the situation she found herself in. Daphne looked to a good friend to get her out of a bind. There was no knowledge on her part as to my true predilection towards her and how much I was disappointed when the farce ended. Maris on the other hand had purposely used these tactics before and targeted my recognized shortcomings towards her own means. With Daphne I was wounded, but not bitter. With Maris, I felt dirty and ashamed over what I had done.  
  
Do I love Maris any more?  
  
Difficult to say. If she would put aside her duplicity, if she would just be honest with me, showed me that she cared about my feelings, then yes, I think I would let her into my heart again. Sometimes she can be so surprising --- like when she thanked me for helping her out with some parking tickets. I was truly touched by the humility in her voice. And when she is in my arms, so frail and delicate and she tells me she needs me, I could almost cry. I want to regain what we once had, but it doesn't seem to be an easy task. So much has come between us in the last little while. Countless times I have lain awake until the dawn thinking about how I can reach out to Maris. I want to believe in her, but ---  
  
Am I falling in love with Daphne?  
  
Maybe ---  
  
But I could also just be responding to her warmth and geniality as a flower reacts to the sunlight. She makes me feel so good when I am around her. It could be something as simple as Daphne providing me an assuagement to the arduous complications of my relationship with Maris. She is an island of tranquil good nature in the sea of turmoil I find myself in at the moment. But Daphne has Joe and I am but a friend - to imagine anything else would just invite more chaos and I don't think I could survive any increased upheaval in my life right now.  
  
Adieu.  
  
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Daphne's Diary  
  
Dear Diary:  
  
I did something yesterday that I'm not very proud of. I took advantage of Dr. Crane - in fact I used everyone in the Crane family, his older brother and father too and Roz as well. I'll have to apologize to all of them. And I will.  
  
I panicked when Clive Roddy suddenly appeared out of nowhere intent on declaring his undying love for me again. In order to stop him dead in his tracks, I just blurted out that Dr. Crane, who was just visiting at the time, was my husband, so Clive was too late to claim me as his. Of course to keep the lie going everyone had to join in and soon it was just a big jumble, with everyone pretending they were someone else. They all played along with me to a point, but I still feel shamed that I bullied them into fibbing so I wouldn't have to face Clive on my own. And as it turned out, I was wrong about Clive - he really has made something of himself, but by the time I found this out, my little sham had worked and he took off faster than Eddie when he's had too many drinks from the toilet. I don't know why I am such a coward about things like that. I just can't seem to come right out and confront someone when it has to do with any unpleasantness. I should have just sat down with Clive and honestly explained my current situation to him. I'm sure that Dr. Crane, either one of them for that matter, would say that I turn too often to avoidance to solve any problems I face.  
  
I'm feeling guilty about another thing too. The minute that I realised that Clive wasn't the layabout that he used to be, I began to openly flirt with him, practically throwing myself at him like some cheeky trollop. Never mind that I looked like an utter fool in front of poor Dr. Crane and everyone - what about the fact that Joe and I are still going out? In the heat of my pursuit of Clive that night, I had conveniently forgotten that little fact.  
  
Perhaps that was just more avoidance?  
  
Joe and I haven't been arguing much lately, but we haven't been talking a whole lot either and that worries me. I want to keep seeing him, but I don't know what direction this is going in. As far as Joe is concerned, I don't what his feelings are on that subject. He's hinted that he might like to settle down - nothing concrete, just an attitude that pops up here and there, or a look that could mean that there is something more beneath the surface. It's all very vague. But when I press him on the issue he just clams up. He won't even look me in the eye. Its not like I want to trap him into marrying me by surprising him with a little bundle of joy. I know I'm not ready to do that yet. Oh, I want to have children, but there are a lot of things that I want to do before I move into that phase of my life.  
  
That was the problem with Clive, and Reggie before him. They both wanted to push me into something that I didn't see myself doing at that point in time. Marriage, kids - look at Mum and Daddy, they married young and had a whole houseful of babies and where did that leave them as a couple. I watched them bicker and battle over the years - Mum slowly losing her spirit and mutating into a nagging sour housewife; my father drifting away from her and our family, in a river of Guinness. I watched over the years and hopefully I have learned something from their mistakes. I not going to rush towards anything remotely resembling that. I'm going to take my time and be sure --- really sure of my decisions. But how can I know if Joe is the one if we don't talk things out? I just want to know where I stand with Joe.  
  
Hold on --- there's someone at the door and since both Dr. Crane and Mr. Crane are both out for the evening I'd better go and see who it is ---  
  
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Dr. Crane has just left.  
  
And get this --- he came over to tell me how sorry he was about last night! He told me he thought that he might have overstepped the line and was afraid that I might think of him as --- what was the word he used? Oh yes, he was afraid that I would think of him as a "rake". I was speechless to say the least! After all I had done, there he was begging forgiveness from me! Well, I just burst into tears. Don't ask me why. I just couldn't believe anyone could be so nice. I'm afraid I frightened him. He just stood there, his eyes darting around the room, mouth gaping, rocking back and forth slightly, with his arms half-opened, looking like he didn't know whether to comfort me or flee for his life.  
  
Finally I forced the words out and told him that he had nothing to apologize for and that he had always been a perfect gentleman towards me. I said I was so embarrassed - he had always been so honest with me and there I was expecting him to fake something so ridiculous as being married to me. I assured him that I never would again put him in such an uncomfortable position, especially since he was struggling with his own marriage. He got the saddest look on his face - almost forlorn, like a little boy who has been left accidentally behind somewhere and doesn't know where to turn for help. He stepped back and turned towards the door to leave, mumbling something about it being all right and for me not to worry, there was no harm done. Suddenly the unease in my past behaviour just withered away. I reached out and placed my hand on his shoulder. I felt him shudder, even through his overcoat.  
  
"Dr. Crane, are you all right?" I managed to sputter out. "Are we still friends?"  
  
His shoulders sagged. His voice was lower than I had ever heard it before, almost raspy.  
  
""It's all right, Daphne. I understand now. Don't worry, we are still friends. That will never change. Good night."  
  
He slipped out of my grasp and closed the door behind himself lightly, without even turning around to glance at me. I felt terrible that I had even inadvertently hurt him. I wiped away the tears from my face. I had to make it up to him.  
  
I opened the apartment door, hoping to catch up with him before he hit the street and drove off. To my surprise there he was sitting on the floor of the hallway beside the elevator door, knees up and his head resting in his folded arms. He looked very tired.  
  
"Dr. Crane?"  
  
He looked up at the sound of my voice.  
  
"Would you like to go out and get some ice cream?"  
  
He didn't answer right away, but slowly his face brightened, as if my words had helped retrieve a pleasant memory.  
  
"I'd love to Daphne," he replied.  
  
"I'll just get my coat and be back in a jiffy."  
  
By the time I returned he had pressed the button for the lift and was holding the door, waiting there with a shy smile on his face.  
  
We went to Abbott's and ordered a double dipper each. His was strawberry and mine chocolate, of course. He wanted to pay, but I insisted that it was my treat and so he graciously gave way. We talked about our childhood diseases - he won that list hands down, our ten most favourite foods and compared worst airplane flights. By the time we were finished our cones and he had walked me back to the apartment, an hour had passed and I knew I had been forgiven. He is such a good and kind person.  
  
I hope that when I finally fall in love --- truly in love with someone, they are as understanding as Dr. Crane. When I think back now, I know I have been paying too much attention to how a person looks when I first meet them. Dr. Crane has shown me that it is what's in someone's heart that is the really important thing. That's what counts. I'm going to talk with Joe the next opportunity I get. I owe that much to him at least. No more avoidance - just some honest answers to what's going on with the two of us.  
  
That's all I need. G'night.  
  
Stay tuned for Part 6 (to be continued) 


	6. Chapt 6: Doppelgangers and Desperate Nig...

Just One Look  
By Valma  
Part 6: Doppelgangers and Desperate Nights  
  
My Journey Through Life - Niles Crane  
  
I told Daphne that I loved her last night.  
  
And it broke my heart.  
  
As I uttered those words I came to the sad realization that we were never so close to each other, and yet so far apart, as we sat on those bar stools in a mundane singles bar that Roz had christened "The Sure Thing".  
  
"Oh, I love you, Dr. Crane."  
  
Said with the abiding affection that Dad talks to Eddie. True endearment, but limited somehow in its understanding of depth and passion.  
  
"I love you too, Daphne."  
  
More of a resignation than a confession to her of a yearning that just won't go away.  
  
Resignation to a feeling that there is a chasm between us that we can't quite seem to leap over. For Daphne it is because that gap doesn't even register with her. From her perspective there is no need to attempt to make the effort to vault over something that doesn't even exist.  
  
For me --- well, I've always been afraid of the ledges of life. I came close to the precipice tonight. It was her going out with Rodney that drove me to it. She finally was dating someone who was more like me than any of the other men she has surrounded herself with in the past. Not exactly like me, mind you, although Dad and Frasier would disagree, but more than Joe was at least.  
  
She and Joe parted ways about a week ago and since Maris and I seemed to still be at a impasse, I was inspired to ask Daphne out --- you know, test the waters of compatibility, to see if all my obsessive dreaming was anywhere near reality. Of course Frasier thoroughly discouraged me, warning me to wait until she was less vulnerable, telling me that a day wouldn't make any difference at all. But it did, because while I procrastinated Roz took Daphne to a cocktail lounge where she met Rodney. That hit me like a blow to the head, but as an antidote to my despondency I resisted my usual habit of crawling into an emotional shell, and determinedly went to the very same bar and met someone myself. Her name was Adelle. We went out a few times. She certainly was an attractive, intelligent individual to be around, someone who helped restore my bruised and battered ego. She was a very lovely woman --- but she just wasn't Daphne. By a strange twist of fate, it came about that when Rodney and Adelle met they were instantly enamored with each other and decided to shed both Daphne and me respectively to pursue their mutual infatuation.  
  
I took it upon myself to seek out Daphne. The official excuse was to commiserate with her on losing Rodney, but I really went over to Granville's determined to tell Daphne just how I felt about her once and for all.  
  
And I almost did.  
  
But in the end I back away from the crevasse.  
  
Why?  
  
Why indeed! Well, for one thing she told me that she would never get involved with man who was separated. I can see her point. Especially since she also said that it was evident that I still had feelings for Maris. Is she right?  
  
Is my reluctance to tell Daphne about how she makes me feel really just a manifestation of my fear of losing Maris? Is that what is really holding me back from taking that leap - deeper feelings for my problematic wife than I care to acknowledge at the moment? I know I tend to look at Daphne and see in her everything Maris isn't - demonstrative, sympathetic, vibrantly alive with energy. But there is one thing that ruins that perfect vision - Daphne doesn't see me as a potential lover in her life. It just isn't there - I'm just not part of her life's equation. She has made that quite clear to me in many subtle and blatant ways - especially tonight.  
  
So there we were - two wounded individuals sipping glassfuls of an inferior Hearty Burgundy and speculating about the misery in our lives. She was smarting from the sting of the Rodney's rejection, more in the mood for caustic comments about him rather than magnanimous ones. It didn't take much to get her to produce an extensive inventory of his less admiral qualities. Ordinarily this exercise of faultfinding of a former beau would have delighted me, but somehow her criticisms seemed to somehow fall uncomfortably close to my own shortcomings. She didn't mean to be cruel, but every comment she made inadvertently reached into my chest and mangled my already crippled heart. Even when she complimented me on my considerate, sensitive attitude towards women I cringed inside. I knew that I had been zealously plotting to make a bid for her affections earlier that week and it was only Frasier's insistence I postpone my selfish headlong rush towards her, that had impeded me from trying to attain my objective. I was fraud - no different from the other "unfeeling" men she looked at with such derision that night.  
  
She asked me, if things had been different and it had been her and I who had met over drinks at Granville's, how did I think our introduction would have gone?  
  
She said she needed "a smile". Those words slashed into my very hopes. The possibility of her and I being together was a source of amusement to her, a bit of absurd humour that would cheer her up.  
  
Of course I obliged her - I can't ever deny her any request she makes of me. Even if it means walking across the broken shards of my emotional aspirations in my bare feet, smiling all the while and telling her how good it feels.  
  
Hence, I laid out the desirous scenario that I had rehearsed a million times in my head over the past three years. We would have met casually, no tethers of guilt on my part to bind me to any other commitments, no preconceptions to hinder her from conceiving of me as someone with wooing potential. No subterfuge, no vacillations or misunderstandings - I would just come right out and say "What are you doing for the rest of your life?"  
  
And that's when she laughed - that was the joke to her.  
  
My most fervent dreams were a punchline to her.  
  
So I gathered up the strewn bits of my heart and quietly laughed along with her. When I think about it, it is funny - in a tragic way. How many times have I sworn to myself that I will stop pursuing the idea that some day Daphne will be romantically interested in me? A dozen? Maybe more? And here I am again - doing just that.  
  
It's an encore performance that sadly I just can't seem to get enough of.  
  
I've got to break this cycle! I've have to either work things out with Maris or move on with my life and find someone who can return my feelings of affection! This time I mean it! If I don't succeed I think I will surely go insane! I think I will visit my old mentor Dr. Traxler at Harborview Hospital and have a chat with him. He helped me before when Mom died. Frasier's too close to the situation and I fear his advice would be tainted by his protective brotherly feelings for Daphne. I need the guidance of someone who is far enough removed from the familial aspect of my predicament so that I can be fully confident of the impartiality of his words. Bill Traxler is a skilled professional and someone whom I can trust. I hope he is available next week.  
  
Adieu.  
  
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Daphne's Diary  
  
Dear Diary:  
  
What is it with men and me?  
  
First, Joe sneaks behind my back and finds someone new and decides to break this news to me during the main course of dinner. Needless to say I ordered the most expensive glass of wine on the menu and then proceeded to dye his shirt with it!  
  
Then I met Rodney. I was looking for a totally different chap from Joe and I certainly found him thanks to Roz and a place called "Granville's". He was handsome, but not what I would call "hunky". I've had enough of those narcissistic guys, like Joe - always checking his looks he was, every time we'd cross in front of a store window. Rodney was more the sophisticated and well-bred kind of fellow - he knew how to treat a lady! We had a nice time chatting and he called me the next morning and asked me out. I enjoyed his genteel manners and his refinement. He made me feel like I was special and I was flattered that someone of his obvious intelligence would want to pay attention to me.  
  
Well, everything was just rolling merrily along, when he ups and dumps me for some blonde tart that Dr. Crane had just begun to date! Bastard! Said he couldn't help himself - he was meant to be with her - blah! blah! blah!  
  
What about me! Don't I deserve someone! I probably would have got stinkin' drunk that night if it weren't for Dr. Crane. He came along just in time and pulled me out of my funk, even though he was in a bit of pain himself, what with that Adelle pitching him over the side of the life raft for Rodney. He said he didn't really care all that much for her, but I think he was covering - trying to make me feel better, by putting on a brave face and showing me that we both could tough our way through this situation. And he actually has it worst than me - what with him being separated from his wife and all. He admitted that he still has feelings for her, the poor thing - I don't know why, but he does!  
  
Of course look at me! Who am I to be judging anyone with their relationships!  
  
As I told Dr. Crane tonight - I'm going to give dating a rest for a while. I'm through with all the Joes, and the Rodneys and all men for good long time! Best I'd better get out the old vibrator and learn to enjoy lengthy soaks in the tub! Speaking of which I think I'll go get a copy of GQ, some bubble bath, a drop of whiskey and entertain myself before going to bed - alone!  
  
Tah -Tah!  
  
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My Journey Through Life - Niles Crane  
  
I hate myself! I hate Frasier! I hate watches that beep and thyroid pills! I hate all night pharmacies and prescription pads!  
  
All those sessions with Traxler and the minute Daphne comes over in a sweaty T-shirt I get an erection the size of the Space Needle!  
  
She even seemed receptive, for the first time since I've known her, to the idea that I could be someone who could satisfy her lustful impulses.  
  
But it ended disastrously, of course and now here I am - hot, horny and alone and about to get drunk --- very drunk, so I can obliterate these thoughts of Daphne from my head once and for all!  
  
Addddieuuuuuu you foooool!  
  
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Daphne's Diary  
Dear Diary:  
  
I almost made one of the biggest mistakes of my life tonight! Thanks to a cheap twenty-dollar timepiece and a medical condition I developed as a young girl, I was saved from destroying one of the most precious relationships I have with someone.  
  
I had a big row with Sherry, Mr. Crane's new girlfriend. She seemed to think I hadn't left my phone number on enough bathroom walls, so she took it upon herself to scan the barfly patrons at McGinty's and pass on my number to them as prospective dating material. Needless to say, after a shouting match with her, I left the apartment in a huff, spitting like a wet cat in a thunderstorm.  
  
Well, after the disasters I've had in the dating department lately - what with "The Return of Clive", "Love 'Em and Leave 'Em Joe" and then "Mister High and Mighty Sir Rodney", I thought I could use a little of the tea and sympathy routine from a friend. I know what you are thinking - I ran over to Annie's place or Clare's, but neither of them were home, so I actually wound up on Dr. Crane's doorstep pleading with him to let me stay over for the night.  
  
To tell you the truth I was glad I couldn't get a hold of either of my girlfriends. When Dr. Crane opened his door, there he was in a gorgeous white linen outfit, looking like some cultured gentleman overseer on a rubber plantation in Sumatra. A welcome sight for these sore eyes, let me tell you! At first I thought he was so shocked by my boldness that he was going to refuse me entry, but within a few minutes it became clear that he was really just feeling the affects of the beastly hot weather, as he proceeded to faint right there in the doorway!  
  
Thank goodness I was able to drag him to the couch, where I managed to revive him - although it took several attempts. I had to unbutton his shirt a bit, to air him out and managed to get quite an eyeful of his manly chest, in the process. Who would of thought that such a frail looking person like Dr. Crane could have such a burly physique hidden under all those Armani suits and braces? I know a health care provider isn't suppose to notice things like this, particularly since the person is also my boss in a way, but I couldn't resist it, especially that night! I'm only human after all!  
  
He was very sympathetic of my situation with Sherry, so I decided to throw caution to the wind and tell him how I frustrated I have been feeling since I have been living like I was a nun in a convent lately.  
  
This seemed to make him --- uncomfortable. And I realised for the first time, that this was a man whom I was revealing my intimate details to - not just a friend. He seemed totally flustered by the direction that our conversation was taking. Suddenly the air in the room became very stifling and both of us fell into a deafening silence. I decided that in order to cool things off, in both senses of the word, I should make a quick exit.  
  
I asked him if it was all right if I took a bath. He graciously assured me that it was perfectly fine by him and I left hastily.  
  
The water was glorious and refreshing, but it did nothing to douse the fires that were beginning to ignite inside me. Throughout the bath the image of Dr. Crane's furry chest kept popping up in mind's eye, until I found myself instinctively getting aroused. Sure I felt naughty about having these thoughts about Dr. Crane, but a little moment of self- indulgent sexual fantasy wouldn't cause any real harm, would it? It wasn't like I was going to traipse down the stairs naked and tell him I was fondling the fig while I was thinking of him in the tub.  
  
But the best laid plans ---  
  
After bathing I slipped into his Chinese silk robe. It smelled wonderful - like sandalwood and spices. I quietly glided down the stairs to the living room, feeling quite elegant and sexy.  
  
The minute I saw him, hurriedly putting the finishing touches on a tray of fruit and icing down a bottle of champagne, I knew that I wasn't the only one having some fantasies that evening. I could have put a stop to it right then and there, but I didn't. I made a conscious decision to pursue this urge that had begun with a private little glow and now was rapidly growing into a reckless craving. But there is an art to seduction and I didn't want to rush into things and spoil the mood. I paused at the foot of the staircase, positioning myself purposely in front of the fan just long enough to let the breeze catch the edge of the silk and lift the flap on the dressing gown. As I called out his name, he turned to face me. The bottle's cork, his eyes and God knows what else popped straight out at the sight of my exposed thighs and panties. Champagne gushed forth, overflowing briefly, until Dr. Crane regained control of the situation as best he could. I covered my semi-nakedness quickly - couldn't have him fainting again before the fun even began! I chuckled to myself - this was almost going to be too easy. I bet his wife never seduced him like this!  
  
We sat down on the couch and began to chat, awkwardly at first, but after a few minutes things started to warm up a bit, as we talked about the intimacies missed by being suddenly single.  
  
I decided to test the emotional waters.  
  
I slipped a mention of his wife into the conversation and waited for his reaction.  
  
The look on his face, as he remembered that she never even liked to hold hands with him, was one of pitiful embarrassment. I suddenly hated her for what she had done to this fine and sensitive man. To regain the mood, I leaned back and gently teased him by sucking suggestively on a rather large champagne drenched strawberry and for good measure I deliberately used the words heat, body and animal in one breath.  
  
That did the trick nicely.  
  
I heard him let out a low throaty growl as his eyes widened with anticipation and he licked his sticky, fruit stained fingers hungrily. I felt a tingling sensation sweep through my body. This delicious torment was a knife that cut both ways.  
  
I was almost thankful when he eased the tension a bit by offering me some ice as relief from the terrible heat. I took the ice and rubbed it over my burning flesh. He turned his back to me, bending low to fetch a piece for himself from the champagne bucket. God! Why had I never noticed before that he had such a cute, tight bum? Now it was my turn to let out a moan of agonizing pleasure, which of course, didn't go unnoticed. Through half-closed eyes I could see him pivot around, staring at me with an opened astonished mouth, almost drooling at my scandalous exhibition. Was that some tenting in the front of his trousers that I saw? My tongue flicked desirously over my quivering lips. I decided it was time to push the envelope and kick this thing into high gear.  
  
I hinted that it was all right by me that we share the fan and sleep in the same room. He seemed almost speechless at that suggestion, but more than willing to go along with the idea. He panted out some nonsense about the fan oscillating. I couldn't stand it any longer! I was throbbing from head to toe and my skin felt two sizes too small. I could smell his sensuous, musky odor as he edged in closer, coming up behind me as I sat on the sofa. His hot, ragged breath drifted down onto my neck. I swallowed hard and let out a small gasp. There he was, hovering above me, his whole body practically trembling with excitement - begging for some sweet relief. Our impetuous fantasy was about to become a reality for both of us.  
  
It was then that we were saved by the bell - really! My watch alarm went off to remind me to take my thyroid pills and with that, the spell was broken.  
  
It hit me like a bolt of lightning - I was simply using Dr. Crane the same way his wife would have. Teasing and torturing him for my own pleasure - manipulating him selfishly, so I could have my fun. I was so ashamed! How could I be so cruel? Dr. Crane wasn't in love with me - I was just pushing all his male panic buttons because I knew he was as lonely as I was. He had had enough misery in his life without me adding to his guilt and heartache. What would happen to our friendship after I had my way with him and he realised that I was using him as a "port in a storm"? I'd never be able to look him in the eye again if we went through with this. I felt like a Jezebel. I had to put a stop to this now, before we did something that we would both regret later.  
  
I insisted on going back to the Elliot Bay Towers to get my pills. At first he tried to talk me out of it, but then he gallantly offered to go up for me so I wouldn't have to see Sherry. Like the coward that I can be sometimes, I initially agreed to this, but then realized while I sat in the car, that I would have to confront Sherry some time, so it might as well be sooner than later. When I got up to the apartment, I could hear Dr. Crane through the open door, trying to explain to Sherry and Mr. Crane why I was so upset. See what I mean about him? Even after I had left him in a very "hard" position so to speak, pulling the plug on him so suddenly as I did without even a decent explanation, there he was staunchly defending my position - fighting my battles for me without even a second thought! I sheepishly decided to give compromise one more try.  
  
Unfortunately it didn't work out. Once the whole can of worms was opened up, Sherry and I were shouting at each other at the top of our lungs within minutes.  
  
Mr. Crane called on his oldest son to sort things out and even though he was in the middle of his "aroma-therapy", which is a bubble bath to everyone else, he offered some pretty sound advice. He helped Sherry and me see that we probably were just feeling insecure about our positions in relation to Mr. Crane and more in likely that's what caused us to get into such a "cat fight" to begin with. We apologized to each other and by the time it was all patched up I was feeling much more chipper all round, actually. In fact, almost everyone was.  
  
Sherry and I had come to a better understanding. Mr. Crane was happy that everything was back to normal. The elder Dr. Crane could feel good that he had helped everyone out of a difficult situation. And I --- I was glad that I hadn't let my feelings of being unwanted by Mr. Crane - how did Dr. Crane put it - "drive me to a rash and impulsive act".  
  
The only one who seemed to get the short end of the stick was poor Dr. Crane.  
  
He stayed behind in the bathroom a few minutes to chat with his brother, while the rest of us trotted off to the kitchen for some glasses of ice tea. When he finally appeared, I called out to invite him to join us, but he just trudged out the door with a look of pure nausea on his face. I don't know what his brother said to him, but what ever it was, it wasn't something that he wanted to hear obviously.  
  
I felt so sorry for him.  
  
I should call him later and apologize for my behaviour --- I should, but I probably won't. I feel so awkward about the whole situation and I can imagine he does too. It's probably best that I just let things settle down and we go back to being friends and pretend that tonight never happened. I hope he understands.  
  
Good night, Diary.  
  
Stay tuned for Part 7 (to be continued) 


	7. Chapt 7: Sex, Wives and Video Dates

Just One Look  
By Valma  
Part 7: Sex, Wives and Video Dates  
  
My Journey Through Life - Niles Crane  
Maris and I have split for good.  
  
"Good" is the correct term I believe, in every sense of the word.  
  
At least for me it is, I think. And perhaps Maris too.  
  
Funny - you'd think I'd be overjoyed to be free of her, what with all the stresses and strains I have gone through with Maris in recent times. And in a way, I am liberated to a certain extent, relieved that a burden that had become just too heavy to bear is off my shoulders. Relieved, yes, but not totally joyous. It's just that it hurts too much to be a champagne and caviar moment.  
  
Oh, I'll have no problem granting her the divorce that she requested to marry Schenkman.  
  
Schenkman --- I'll never forgive him! It isn't so much that he "took" Maris from me - she obviously was more than happy to run to his open arms, it's the way it was done! Both of them sneaking around behind my back, having an "affaire d'amour" right under my nose, while continuing to feign being merely doctor and patient during our therapy sessions. I can excuse Maris to a certain degree - we were legally separated after all, she had a right to look elsewhere if she chose, but Schenkman --- he's a professional for God's sake! He ought to have known better. It was a betrayal to me as a colleague, a friend and as a patient!  
  
I told Frasier tonight that this whole thing has left me very dispirited. I guess I see the failure of our marriage as a failure in myself actually. It's just that I finally thought that Maris and I had a breakthrough and had begun to really heal our marriage. After I called her bluff and signed the divorce petition, she seemed willing to attempt reconciliation and although the path wasn't always smooth, I at least had some genuine hope for success. Why, it wasn't a month and a half ago, when we accidentally met on that cruise ship that Frasier was booked on, that she told me that she missed me so much and apologized for her behavior. I couldn't believe my ears! "I'm sorry," were two words that I never thought I would ever hear issuing forth from those lips. She had never done that before. I took this largesse of atonement on her part as a sign of her faith in our commitment to rectify our relationship.  
  
What a delusional fool I was!  
  
Looking back I have to wonder --- was this thing with that worm Schenkman just a spur of the moment whimsy, or had she been plotting to take a lover for a long time? She always made it perfectly crystalline to me that my "performance" as a husband was wanting at best. Perhaps she just finally got fed up, dealing with my bumbling inadequacies, and decided to find a more competent lover? Am I really that gauche of a mate that I drove her to such a desperate act?  
  
Or --- or maybe Schenkman was just the culmination of a long line of infidelities? Suddenly my mind is reeling with the possibilities of her hidden liaisons during our time together. All those years before we separated, while she was starving me for sex, making me beg like a lapdog for even a morsel of affection, was she out satisfying her concupiscence with heedless abandon? I didn't suspect a thing in Schenkman's case, so Maris could have conceivably been cheating on me, making a mockery of our marriage, for God knows how long, and I would have been none the wiser. How many lovers could she have had? Ten? Twenty? Let's see - all those renovators and tradesmen, several pool boys, numerous masseurs, gallery owners, her yogi and perhaps --- perhaps those reprobates on the opera board! The list could be endless. All of them secretly laughing at me, the inept dupe of a husband, as I incessantly fawned over my "dedicated" wife! Everything seems under a cloud of suspicion to me now --- now that this violation of our vows has taken place.  
  
At least I was always faithful to Maris while we were married! Yes, it is true that I have struggled with attractions to other women throughout the years - the allurement of Daphne being the most serious of all, I admit. Dr. Traxler told me once that these obsessive fascinations with various women throughout my marriage could be rooted in my desires for the attention that Maris constantly denied me. "A learned response to an unanswered need," is what he said exactly, in one of our last sessions.  
  
To have an impulse is one thing - everyone has imaginings, yearnings and fantasies. These things can't be truly suppressed, even in a bottomless pit of self-loathing and reproach. They seem to be involuntary and subconscious in nature. Lord knows I have tried to pulverize into submission my spontaneous feelings for Daphne, but they keep coming back to plague me again and again, much to my chagrin.  
  
But to act on those notions is quite another thing altogether! I know of whence I speak! Several times I have come perilously close to "outing" my urges for Daphne, but there was no real danger of any resultant impropriety because the feelings of passion were entirely one-sided on my part and she would have just kindly dismissed my advances. Only once was there any real prospect of reciprocity on her part, and as it happened I was thwarted in that incident too by seemingly uncontrollable external circumstances.  
  
Frasier always insisted that I knew it wasn't right that hot and steamy night, and that I subconsciously sabotaged myself. Upon reflection I think he was correct - I never really pictured myself as a philanderer. So, while there was even still the minutest indication of hope, I guess deep inside I felt like I had a responsibility to Maris and our relationship not to step over that final boundary line that delineates a marriage - having intercourse with someone. And when it came right down to it that meant even with the lovely Daphne Moon or anyone else for that matter. I just couldn't do it knowing that there still might be a chance that there was something left of my marriage with Maris. So once again I convinced myself after that night, that with enough determination and effort on my part, and a little luck, Maris and I could recapture what we had loss over the years, through neglect or complacency. So I gave it my best effort- one last time.  
  
And I thought we were finally succeeding --- until now.  
  
Now, it's over - completely over. Any glimmer of hope I once had was extinguished that evening, snuffed out by Maris' declaration that she had fallen in love with "Bernie" and they planned to "get married as soon as possible - if you don't mind, thank you!"  
  
I had been so convinced that things were going well, was so blindly bamboozled as to how our counseling seemed to be progressing that when she uttered those words I temporarily lost all my emotional bearings. With the image of those two surreptitiously partaking in the intimacies that only Maris and I had once shared pounding in my brain, I panicked and fled in a state of unmitigated confusion. All I knew was that I to get away to sort my feelings out and try to regain some of perspective of what was happening.  
  
Desperately grasping at any lifeline to save my marriage, I concluded that she must have been suffering from transference. Looking back now, I guess it was that I just didn't want to believe that I had been discarded so callously, when I was under the impression that we were on the threshold of restoring our relationship. Going completely against the advice of my brother, I decided to give her one last chance and go over to her place in attempt to make a direct appeal to her once again to try to make a go of things. Some delusions don't die an easy death.  
  
But as I told Frasier later, upon approaching the house, I suddenly had a moment of rare clarity. It was like a vision. I could see myself, dozens of versions of me actually, lined up in front of that large oak paneled door, a procession of sniveling sycophants, repeatedly practicing our cowering and cringing as we all waited anxiously for Maris to make her appearance. It was a panoramic reenactment of my life story. My body recoiled from the specters that paraded before me. I felt like a garrote was tightening around my throat. Falling to my knees I retched up bile until I was almost prostrate with exhaustion. This is what she had reduced me to! Dry heaving on the front lawn in the dark and the damp!  
  
I looked up and saw a solitary light blazing from her bedroom window. I knew then that this was the end. I couldn't subject myself to her tyranny any more and survive. Even if I were on my own, as frightening as that prospect was, I knew that I would have more of a chance to find some happiness in my life, than if I somehow convinced her to take me back and I stayed within her sphere of influence. A feeling of resolute determination took hold of me. Stumbling to my feet I called out "Goodbye, Maris. I hope you have a happy life but I don't have to take anymore of your crap ever again!" I didn't even wait to see if she heard me - just spun on my heel sharply and strode back to the car with all the dignity I could muster. The forces of guilt and fear that had shackled me to her for so long were finally shattered!  
  
I don't even remember how I made my way back to Frasier's, but I wound up there eventually, where we were joined a bit later by Dad and the three of us spent the remainder of the evening drinking and commiserating about the sad state of our sorry love-lives. At one point I symbolically threw my wedding band away as a tangible gesture that there was no going back on this decision.  
  
It feels a little strange, this newfound emancipation. I've always been under the sway of a dominant woman it seems. First, of course, there was the loving but commanding governance of my mother. Then, less than a year after mom died, I found my way to Maris. I was a young intern full of ambitions and dreams, she was quite a bit older than me, had family connections to a world of prestige and social status, and seemed to possess some of the same resolute personality traits that my mother did. Of course, what I failed to notice was, that she completely lacked my mother's sense of compassion and perceptiveness towards other human beings. But I was in love with Maris. At least I thought I was. And I always assumed that she was in love with me too.  
  
But what Maris and I had wasn't love at all - it was more like a co- dependency situation. We were two people whose weaknesses complimented each other perfectly. It was like an addiction - an unhealthy condition that consumes the victims, but all the while, blinds them from seeing the damage that is being done.  
  
And I am damaged goods --- there's no denying that!  
  
Why would Daphne ever want someone like me?  
  
Why would any woman want me?  
  
I can't even measure up to a paunchy, unethical therapist with a bald spot and bad breath.  
  
So here I am, free of Maris, but also very, very lonely. No one to share my life with. No one "to have and to hold".  
  
No one at all.  
  
I think I should go back into therapy with Bill Traxler again.  
  
Adieu.  
  
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Daphne's Diary  
  
Dear Diary:  
  
I just got back from Dr. Crane's where I had a very - how should I put this --- interesting time.  
  
It started out merrily enough - I came over to his place to drop off some dessert and ended up having a grand time, singing up a storm in the kitchen, helping him prepare the dinner that he was making for his date. That's right - a date for Dr. Crane! Her name was Daphyllis, Phyllis for short, and she's a neighbor of his from across the hall in his apartment building. I overheard him going on about her to his brother yesterday and when I prodded him further he confessed to me that he was really quite smitten with her. But true to his shy ways, he was reluctant to ask her out. I just figured that as long as he was interested in her all he needed was a nudge, so I just supplied a friendly little push to get him on his way down the path of romance and encouraged him to give her a call. I was so excited for him.  
  
Perhaps a bit too excited as it turned out.  
  
Looking back, I feel a bit bad about pressing him so strongly. I really miscalculated. He just wasn't ready for the dating scene yet. Phyllis sensed his discomfort with the whole situation and bolted at the first opportunity. I should have seen it coming - I've been in that type of a vulnerable position after a break up, but it was just that he has been in such misery since the divorce proceedings started, that I just couldn't stand seeing him so melancholy any more. He seemed so isolated lately, just rattling around in that large, empty apartment of his - keeping to himself mostly, not even visiting his brother like he used to. I guess I was worried about him.  
  
I think the divorce has been very hard on him. God knows why he wanted to reconcile with that shrew of a wife - but he did, and it broke his heart when she told him that she was in love with someone else and wanted a divorce as quick as possible so that she could remarry. It was really for the best that he is free of her now, but the way it was done, left him very defenseless and emotionally raw, I think.  
  
Even when all of us went to fabulous ski resort for a couple of weekends ago, he seemed skittish and preoccupied. Of course it didn't help that Annie, one of my girlfriends who came with us, was all over him like a man- eating shark. I knew instantly that she was the wrong type of woman for him - she'd just chew him up and spit him out when she was finished with him, just like his wife had done. He certainly didn't need that so soon after his split with his wife! I tried my best to protect him from her, but there's no stopping Annie when she's on the prowl for some fresh game.  
  
What a chaotic weekend that turned out to be! Annie practically slinging her panties at poor Dr. Crane, Mr. Crane confusing everyone because he couldn't hear properly, the other Dr. Crane strutting around like a peacock trying to catch Annie's attention. And me --- I embarrassed myself thoroughly - me making a play for a Frenchman who happened to turn out to be gay! He was great looking eye candy, though! What a pity!  
  
I had a feeling the whole evening that Dr, Crane had something on his mind that he wanted to tell me. I assumed it was about his divorce, but in the complete hubbub of that night I never did find out exactly what he was so agitated about. We all left the next morning quite shame-faced about our carrying on the night before, and by then the moment was lost.  
  
That's why I'm pleased I had the opportunity to make it up to him and spend some time with him tonight. He seemed so desperate for some human contact. When we were making the meal he truly seemed absorbed in the rhythm of our labors, as we chopped vegetables for the salad and sang in harmony. I think he actually allowed himself to forget about his gloomy mood. I'm glad that little diversion helped him.  
  
And in spite of Phyllis' sudden departure, or maybe because of it, he unexpectedly asked me if I would like to join him for supper.  
  
Of course I said yes. I always enjoy his company and a pleasant dinner with a friend might be just the thing to get him to stop dwelling on the sad state of his intimate affairs.  
  
The meal was lovely and we chatted about so many topics. He seemed determined to keep it light and airy. Nothing seemed awry until near the end  
  
We were talking about places we had been in Europe and the conversation inevitably drifted around to Paris. I had gone there years ago with a couple of girlfriends on a weekend lark before I came to America. Dr. Crane, on the other hand, had been there twice - the first time when he was a college student and then later on his honeymoon. In a moment that I wished instantly that I could have taken back, when he mentioned this second occasion, I indiscreetly said that I couldn't imagine any more romantic spot for two people in love. That must have triggered some memories for him. I paused, hoping he would just let it slide by and not let it spoil the mood of the evening. But my unintentional yet poignant remark apparently struck its target swiftly. Before I could change the subject, Dr. Crane suddenly jumped to his feet and started to bustle about, clearing away the dishes at a frantic pace.  
  
He mumbled something about hating seeing a mess on the table too long and trotted quickly through the swinging door to the kitchen before I could even get out of my chair to help. Only seconds later I heard this horrendous crash. I leapt up and rushed into the kitchen to find him standing over the sink, his arms supporting the weight of his body as he leaned over the center workstation island, gazing down into a pile of broken ceramic dinner plates and saucers in the stainless steel basin below. He didn't even look up until I was standing right beside him.  
  
"Is there anything wrong, Dr. Crane?" I asked cautiously, knowing that there was, but also wanting to give him an opportunity to beg off the question if he desired privacy.  
  
"My --- my hands just slipped - let go of the dishes, accidentally," he explained in a rush. "I --- I didn't --- didn't --- "  
  
He trailed off, not even attempting to finish his thought.  
  
The dishes had obviously been smashed into the sink with such force that there wasn't any doubt in my mind that this was his angry response to the pressures that he was feeling and clearly not an accident.  
  
I put my hand on top of his.  
  
"It's all right Dr. Crane," I whispered. "I understand."  
  
No! You don't understand!" he fairly shouted. "It hurts --- it hurts more than you'll ever know!"  
  
He sounded angry. I had never seen him like this.  
  
"Oh, Dr. Crane," I said quietly. "I'm so sorry if I seemed too forward about your private affairs. I didn't mean to seem so bold."  
  
He looked over at me with a pitiful expression on his face and shook his head.  
  
"No, Daphne, I'm sorry --- it's not you! It's m --- me. It's just --- " and then he stopped and looked away.  
  
"Yes, Dr. Crane?" I prodded.  
  
It's --- it's just that I hate --- hate all the duplicity, all the lying. I just want some honesty. I want --- a special someone in my life --- and --- and I want that --- that someone to --- to genuinely love me back, Daphne," he finally blurted out, hanging his head limply as if saying those words had sapped him of all his strength.  
  
I shook my head in sympathy and rubbed his back soothingly.  
  
"Yes, I know," I murmured softly. "I know."  
  
"It's like the whole world has somebody --- except me. I don't want to end up being alone. I've always abhorred being single. It frightens me. Do you think that's weak of me?"  
  
"No --- no, not weak, just human. Why don't we just forget about this mess for right now?" I said taking his arm and guiding his back into the living room. "Sit down on the couch here. You shouldn't keep all this bottled up inside of you Dr. Crane. It's unhealthy."  
  
He plopped down and grabbed a cushion, hugging it as he perched on the edge of the seat. A nervous, almost skeptical laugh escaped from his lips.  
  
"You sound like my therapist now," he said.  
  
That surprised me. I never thought of him having to take his problems to anyone outside of his family. I just assumed he would talk over his feelings with his brother.  
  
"Oh, you're seeing someone? I didn't know that," I responded and then I quickly added, in case that sounded too meddlesome, "That's good. I'm sure they can give you good advice."  
  
I heard him sigh audibly.  
  
"Dr. Traxler told me not to obsess so much about --- about --- " he seemed to be struggling for the right words again. He glanced at me and then looked quickly away. "Well, so --- so many things."  
  
I expected him to explain further, but he fell into silence again and leaned back until his head was resting on the back of the couch.  
  
"Would you like to listen to some music?" I queried cheerily, hoping to improve his disposition.  
  
He shook his head no, blankly gazing at the ceiling.  
  
I could see he wasn't in the mood for chatting, so more conversation was out of the question.  
  
"Perhaps I should just go and leave you to ---"  
  
"No!" he protested. "Please! Don't --- don't go! I don't want to be alone tonight. I --- I mean, if it's all right, can --- can you stay a bit longer?"  
  
His eyes opened wide and I could see he was a man in need a friend tonight. My heart ached for him. I couldn't desert him now.  
  
"Why of course, Dr. Crane," I reassured him. "But I think it would be wise if you tried not to think about --- about your wife --- I mean, about your troubles. How about a movie? That ought to take your mind off of --- of your --- "  
  
Now it was my turn to fumble for the correct words.  
  
"Yes," he said distractedly, "A movie would be good. I have a collection of videos in that cabinet over there. Your pick --- go ahead."  
  
I eased off the couch and opened the drawer.  
  
There were about 50 tapes neatly filed in alphabetical order. Most were foreign films or offbeat independent movies. I smiled. Some things were still very predictable. My fingers ran lightly over the spines of the tapes, as I looked for suitable material for this evening.  
  
Nothing too depressing. No heartbreaking romance stories. And no heavy dramas either - neither of us were in the mood for something that required a lot of concentration obviously. Luckily Dr. Crane have a small selection of classic comedies and so I finally settled on "Bringing Up Baby". That would surely take his mind off of his worries and put a smile on his face.  
  
When I presented it to him he nodded to show his agreement with my choice, but remained mute.  
  
We settled on the sofa in his television room, located just around the corner from the living room. At first I tried to engage him in the film, but all he would do was politely answer in short, one word replies, so eventually I just let him alone. Half way through the movie he curled up in a protective ball on the other end of the couch. In the ghostly light of the television I could see him vacantly staring off into the darkness, barely focusing on the flickering images in front of him. By the time the film was over he was fast asleep. I found a comforter and tucked it around his reclining form. He had been through so much lately and was probably exhausted, physically and mentally. I brushed an errant strand of hair out of his eyes. His skin was warm to my touch. He started to stir a bit, stretching and struggling to escape from his blessed slumber.  
  
"Shhh, Dr. Crane," I whispered. "Don't wake up. You should sleep now."  
  
His mouth moved silently, trying to form some words in reply. I placed my finger up against his lips and renewed my request.  
  
"Go to sleep --- Niles," I said gently. "You need your rest."  
  
That appeared to work nicely. He settled back and a peacefulness seemed to take hold of him.  
  
I don't know why, but instinctively I bent down to give him a good night peck on the cheek and as I did he turned his head, quite accidentally I'm sure, towards mine. Our lips touched lightly and then, inexplicably, against any sensible inclinations that I might possess, an inadvertent brush of flesh ended in a fragile, tentative kiss. Unlike the one we had at the Snowball, there was no fakery this time. That was done to thrill an audience of onlookers, this --- this caress was earnest, spontaneous, irrepressible and completely unnerving for me.  
  
His lips were moist, supple and sweet tasting. I was stunned by the sensation that washed over me - I had to deliberately stop myself from going back for a second helping. I leaned back and traced my mouth with my fingers carefully. Only a delicate tingling in my lips remained of my clandestine moment of indiscretion.  
  
A flush of color invaded my face. I slowly retreated to the opposite end of the couch to consider all the implications of what had just happened.  
  
Luckily he didn't wake up, but only snuggled deeper into the blanket that covered him and continued to sleep.  
  
A sudden shudder ran through my body. I felt baffled and then --- ashamed at what I had done. Dr. Crane was my friend. He was looking to me for support and encouragement, not --- not physical gratification.  
  
What if he had woken to find me hovering over him in such a suggestive manner? I can't imagine how I could ever live it down! Such a betrayal of our friendship! I'd never have been able to look him in the eye again.  
  
As delicious as that tender kiss was, I knew I could never let this secret encounter be revealed.  
  
I cautiously slipped from the room and after cleaning up the broken dishes in the sink, I left his apartment. All the way home I couldn't get the touch of his lips against mine out of my mind. By the time I closed my bedroom door behind me, I was actually shaking so hard I had to lean against it for support. Was it guilt that I was feeling for such a lapse in judgement? How could I have taken advantage of him like that and, what's worse - felt so aroused by it? Did our friendship mean nothing to me? I swore never to trespass into that dangerous minefield again.  
  
I'm going to go to sleep now and consider myself lucky that he was oblivious to what happened tonight. Talk about your close calls though! The last thing in the world I would ever want is to lose his respect. Fortunately it is over and done with - I can put this behind me and we can continue being friends in the same way we have always been.  
  
Good night Diary.  
Stay tuned for Part 8 (to be continued) 


	8. Chapt 8: Letting Go and Hanging On

Just One Look  
By Valma  
Part 8: Letting Go and Hanging On  
  
My Journey Through Life - Niles Crane  
  
I'm doing my "homework" right now.  
  
Dr. Traxler told me the other day to catalogue my worries and stresses and then list the good points in my life as well. It's a process that I've used with some of my own patients and can be very effective. By writing these sorts of things down it helps one get an overall perspective of your circumstances - you can see things balancing off of each other.  
  
Well, let's see -  
  
Miseries in My Life:  
  
Maris is trying to destroy me financially, now that Schenkman has deserted her and I refused to take her back. She just doesn't get it! Even though I feel like I am sliding into the depths of hell most days, it is still better than hurling myself into the emotional abyss of returning to Maris. I would rather die that do that! But as Frasier said, there is a price to be paid for my freedom from her.  
  
2) I had to move out of the Montana because I couldn't afford the rent.  
  
3) My new home is ironically called "The Shangri-La", and it is, to put it plainly, a dump.  
  
4) My lawyers are bleeding me dry. It wouldn't be so bad, if there were some results to show for all the money I have spent. But I seem to be no closer to finalizing my divorce from Maris than the day she started proceedings. Delay after delay, paperwork keeps mounting, court dates are made and broken with alarming regularity - it is all so depressing!  
  
5) I have had very little appetite lately - which may be a blessing because I can't afford to eat out any more.  
  
6) I can't sleep - but who could, in a bed that I have to hurl back up into the wall each morning!  
  
7) My pet cockatoo, Baby, is picking up all sorts of vulgar sayings from the churls that surround me in my new abode.  
  
8) Frasier has got so many problems of his own, now that he is unemployed, that he hasn't got time for my concerns.  
  
9) My sex life has gone from wretched to worse. I slept with --- Lilith, of all people, although in my calumniating defense, I was dead drunk at the time. That makes it better, right? Of course when Frasier found out it nearly ruined our relationship. I could scarcely look him in the eye for weeks on end after that little fiasco.  
  
10) My next conquest was a woman who neglected to tell me that she came with a rather rancorous husband, until after we had done the deed. To salvage my rapidly depleting self-respect, I of course ceased seeing her immediately, but for a while afterwards I lived in constant fear that "Old Rhino" was following me and planned to pick me off with his hunting rifle just for the sport of it.  
  
11) Frasier tried to set me up with a barmaid from McGinty's who was old enough to be my mother, looked like a diminutive frog and had all the personality of an eggbeater. I'm beginning to feel like a prostitute. I might as well go stand under a street lamp in a thong!  
  
12) I spent a night in jail because a frustrated old biddy friend of Maris thought I had bludgeoned my hopefully soon to be ex-wife to death. Now I wish I had.  
  
13) I was expelled from my gourmet club after my "never-to-be-lived-down" Golden Apron presentation. Whenever I hear the word "Antwerp" it triggers a memory flash of the smell of rotting seal flesh.  
  
And ---  
  
14) To top it all off, I set Frasier's apartment on fire.  
  
Onto my "Reasons to Live" list ---  
  
1) When I am finally free and clear of Maris I am determined to ask Daphne out. It is the only thing that keeps me going nowadays.  
  
That's it - period.  
  
That didn't take long, did it? Not a very even, balanced list, to say the least.  
  
But the mere hope of gaining Daphne's love is weighty enough to wipe the slate clean on the other side, if I can achieve that illusive task.  
  
Traxler now l thinks that I am specifically obsessed with Daphne because I need to have an unattainable goal in my life. He says it is an issue that stems right back to my seeking approval from my mother, trying to live up to the exacting standards she set for both Frasier and myself in our youth. I am beginning to have my suspicions that Traxler is a closet Freudian --- and that means that I have to find a new therapist.  
  
According to Traxler, I chose Maris to love because I knew it was an impossibility. I set myself up for inevitable failure on purpose. He is convinced that even if I did obtain Daphne's love I would not be satisfied and that I would eventually grow discontented, like I did with Maris, and seek some other impossible objective to punish myself for never fully satisfying my mother's demanding criteria before she died.  
  
But I know he is wrong. I have thought about this often. I love her --- I really do --- I think.  
  
The one point that bothers me is that if I love her - why can't I tell her?  
  
Why can't I even ask her out on a date?  
  
I've started having dreams about her again. Not just the ordinary Daphne dreams that I used to have, where she and I meet, go out and then get married. These --- these dreams are different. The one I had the other night after our dinner together was the most vivid one yet. I dreamt she kissed me. It was so sensual, so --- intense, I could feel her lips pressing against mine and taste her in my mouth. I could smell the woody floral scent of her perfume, surrounding me with the luxury of her presence. But erotic desires aren't the only feelings that these fantasies have produced. There is also a radiance of spirit that overtakes me when I have these imaginative experiences, a kind of tranquility that brings with it a peace of mind, knowing that I want for nothing as long as she is beside me. A resplendent sense of comfort and belonging that makes me feel complete and happy.  
  
But then I awake.  
  
It's just a dream - nothing more.  
  
My reality is much different.  
  
Is Traxler right? Is my love for Daphne just a guilt complex rooted in the fact that I felt I couldn't ever totally please my mother?  
  
No --- I refuse to believe that! It can't be. Sometimes my yearning for her is so strong that I find myself thinking about her in the middle of a session when I am with one of my patients. I never felt this way about Maris - ever! I can't seem to get her out of my mind! I search for excuses to go over to Frasier's apartment on the off chance that she might appear, carrying a laundry basket, needing help with some groceries or, if I am really lucky, just settling in to watch a movie or television program. Then I can pretend to take an interest in whatever is flitting past on the screen and I get to sit with her for the next hour or two. She makes me feel like a being a better person whenever I am near her.  
  
And yet, there are times when being around Daphne is almost torturous. It's strange - I can chatter on for hours with her about her family, our likes and dislikes in food or movies, about the idle gossip around the Elliot Bay Towers - almost anything. Anything that is, except to come clean about how much I adore her. I have tried! I just can't summon the courage to get the words out. I have been so close sometimes - like the other night, but then I find myself becoming completely inarticulate, unable to string three words together without disintegrating into a puddle of nervous tics and awkward, maladroit movements. Frasier thinks that my inability to talk to her about my emotions is due to the fact that I have been through such a terrible time with Maris. He says I am just terrified of Daphne rejecting me too, so my self-assurance just dissolves whenever I attempt to confront her about how I feel.  
  
But if I were truly free and clear of Maris, maybe things would be different then? Perhaps I wouldn't imagine Daphne looking at me as a "separated" man with unresolved issues or a man in the messy "process" of getting a divorce. I wouldn't come with a lot of cumbersome baggage. I would be viewed as someone who had put all my bitterness behind me and would be able to devote myself to her totally, give her my undivided attention. Then I would feel more confident about taking an emotional gamble and confessing my love to her. Then I would be ready to take a chance. If only ---  
  
Adieu.  
  
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Daphne's Diary  
  
Dear Diary,  
  
Just when you think you have your whole life figured out, boom - the unexpected happens!  
  
I met a man the other day!  
  
His name is Donny - Donny Douglas. He's a lawyer --- actually he's Dr. Crane's lawyer and was just hired by him to speed things along with his divorce. And he certainly does work quickly - in more ways than one!  
  
He's sharp as a tack, a real down to earth guy with a good sense of humor, friendly, a talkative manner and highly successful in his job. He seems to be a genuine "people" person - caring and responsive to other's needs. He certainly has tackled Dr. Crane's case with a passion that none of his other lawyers ever did.  
  
You see he came over to prepare the Cranes for their depositions yesterday afternoon. We were just finishing up when one of Mrs. Crane's lawyers called and said that they were going to take the position that Dr. Crane was solely the one responsible for the failure of the marriage due to what Donny called "alienation of affection". If they got a judge to buy that, it meant that Dr. Crane would be stuck paying his wife a huge sum of money to compensate for her "humiliation"! As outrageous as that seems, the most ridiculous part was that she was saying that I was the "other woman"! She was basing this accusation on the time we went to the Snowball together. When I heard that I was a bit worried actually. Trouble was that it did appear that Dr. Crane and I were an "item" as they say, but in reality we were just putting on a show for his snobby friends.  
  
Donny wanted me to be very careful how I answered their questions in court - one slip up and Dr. Crane could be roasted alive by his wife. I went with him to his office to review my statement over before the session the next day. He was very professional and I liked that he was doing his best for Dr. Crane. After about an hour we were finished and I was about ready to leave, when he looked up at me from behind his desk and asked if I were hungry. When he smiled at me, I suddenly became aware that he might be interested in more than just a bite to eat. At first I was going to say no, but in a flash I thought, "Why not? He seems like a nice chap. I should give him half a chance. I'm not seeing anyone at the moment. If it doesn't work out, at least I got a meal out of it."  
  
We went to a little bar just around the corner from his building, called "The Juke Box". It was filled with all sorts of professional people, but it had a cozy neighborhood feel about it. We talked about all sorts of things. He was especially fascinated with how I had struck out on my own at such a young age and came to America to find employment. I found out that he had been in Seattle about 10 years and that he had moved around quite a bit himself, mainly because his mum had remarried a number of times.  
  
The evening wore on and we ordered another bottle of wine. Neither one of us wanted to call it a night, so we just kept sitting there - sometimes just looking at each other, sometimes asking more questions, exploring the possibilities and getting to know each other better. Finally the conversation shifted to listing our favourite haunts around town.  
  
"There's a coffee house just around the corner from the court house, the Café Nervosa - ever been there?" I asked.  
  
"No, I haven't actually," he said and then added, "But had I known that you made it a regular stop I would have bought part ownership in it by now."  
  
I laughed at his flattery.  
  
"You're too kind," I giggled.  
  
"And you are too beautiful."  
  
I raised my eyebrow slightly. Not a lot of subtlety, but sometimes a direct approach can be effective in the hands of a skillful operator.  
  
"I'm sorry if I seem like I'm pushing too hard," he continued. "But all my training as a lawyer has taught me to read situations instantly and strike when the iron is hot. And I figure someone as gorgeous and intelligent as you, who is also single, wouldn't be available if I were to dillydally too long."  
  
He glanced down at his wineglass and then back up at me. This was definitely a man who knew how to use words to get his point across. I could see why he won court cases.  
  
"Sooooo, it's getting late and what I want to know is, will you go out with me, Miss Moon?"  
  
I laughed. He was so frank, so focused and so "to the point". I had never met someone like him before.  
  
And then I smiled. I liked his straightforwardness.  
  
"Yes," I answered, "Yes, Mr. Douglas I will."  
  
"Then you better call me Donny," he retorted and clasped my hand with a firm, but gentle grip, bringing my fingers up to his mouth and giving them a little kiss.  
  
I blushed. Charming, but assertive - interesting combination.  
  
"All right --- Donny," I found myself saying. "See you tomorrow. How about for lunch, after the depositions at Nervosa?  
  
"Perfect," he replied. "Now let's get you safely home."  
  
And with that we left. All the way, as we drove through the empty streets, I kept wondering if I should kiss him goodnight and by the time he pulled up to the Elliot Bay towers I had changed my mind about a dozen times. As he turned off the engine and escorted me to the front foyer I could sense that he wanted to kiss me. He paused as he opened the door for me and looked down at the ground.  
  
"Do I pass the first round of tests enough to get a kiss?" he inquired cagily.  
  
It had been awhile since I was a girlfriend to someone. I missed that feeling of being wanted and desired. I could see myself going out with Donny - his honesty and eagerness was very attractive.  
  
"Yes," I said simply and I bent down slightly and reached out towards him.  
  
His kiss was firm and responsive. No tongue - that would have been too brassy and even a fearless lawyer knows when not to push his luck too much.  
  
We said our good-byes and I watched him get into his car and drive away before I pressed for the lift.  
  
By the time I unlocked the front door to the apartment it was well after midnight. Everyone was fast asleep. I crept quietly to my room, to mull over the rush of events that had happened in the past few hours.  
  
Tomorrow will be a busy day and an important day for Dr. Crane. Hopefully, if all goes well, he will be celebrating something that he has been looking forward to for quite a while. He will finally be free to be happy! I'm so glad for him - he deserves some joy in his life after all he has been through.  
  
I don't think I will mention about this new development between Donny and me until after his case has been settled. I don't want to put the spotlight on our newfound relationship, when Dr. Crane is finalizing the breaking up of his marriage. That just wouldn't seem right. After it is all over, there will be time enough to announce that Donny and I are together. Then we will have two things to cheer about!  
  
Goodnight Diary!  
  
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* My Journey Through Life - Niles Crane  
  
I feel like the gum on the bottom of someone's shoe.  
  
I'm home now, but Frasier informed me that I spent most of the night under his piano, "drinking, moaning and whining" as he so kindly put it, until I became completely inebriated and mercifully passed out.  
  
Eventually I had to be dragged out from under the piano and apparently at one point Frasier had to forcibly pry my fingers from off one of the legs, while I muttered something about wanting to die where I lay.  
  
Not my finest hour, to be sure. My one consolation is that Daphne wasn't anywhere around when I decided to put on such a besotted exhibition.  
  
She, of course, was out on a date with Donny.  
  
Out on a date with Donny --- those words could have been rapiers the way they skewered my heart to the pit of my stomach.  
  
On what should have been one of the happiest days of my life, I have nothing inside of me except heartache and pain. And now a dreadful hangover as well.  
  
I got a tremendous settlement in my divorce from Maris. I never expected to triumph in such a fashion, but it is meaningless now. I would willingly have given all the money I got back, would gladly have stayed forever imprisoned at the Shangri-La and happily eaten bologna sandwiches and drank jug wine for the rest of my life, if any of that would have stopped Daphne from going to Donny Douglas' office yesterday. Small sacrifices for what I would have gained in return.  
  
As I sat in the court room earlier that day, listening to the judge decree that Maris was not the injured party in this divorce case, I allowed myself the extravagance of imagining how I was going to ask Daphne out when we got back to Frasier's to celebrate. I had narrowed it down to a selection of one of five ways, by the time Frasier and I made our way to Nervosa for refreshments.  
  
All the ill-fated factors that appeared to have stymied me over the past years finally seemed to be fortuitously in the past now. I was free of Maris, legally and emotionally. Daphne was unattached. I was financially secure again. My mood was buoyant and I was in a totally sanguine temperament!  
  
But that uplifting confidence vanished in just one look.  
  
As I turned around hoping to catch the eye of a hurried waiter, I was struck by the jarring vision of Donny and Daphne snuggled up together on a bench in Nervosa. Devastation is too mild of a term to describe the ensuing melancholy that overtook me in that fleeting instant.  
  
Daphne's "got a thing" for him - I can tell. Her whole demeanor proclaimed it even without her saying a word. She giggled and blushed the whole time when Frasier and I met them in the Café Nervosa this afternoon. I saw the same look in her eyes that I saw when she confessed that she was enamored with Joe. Her face radiated with that glow that lights up the room. Even though it took all my will power, I managed to smile at them as they informed us about the details of how they came together after Daphne had worked with Donny on my case. I barely had enough strength left though, to stumble back to my chair when they started cooing at each other and sipping on their coffees. I just couldn't stand seeing him sitting so close beside her a moment longer! Now he was the one smelling her hair and not me!  
  
As the blood roared in my ears, I thought I could faintly hear Frasier muttering some sort of feeble excuse as to why the two of us couldn't join them in a celebratory dinner. Good old Frasier - he knew that I would want to be alone at a time like this. I was allow one night of feeling sorry for myself at least. I know I should feel grateful for all Donny has done for me - I never would have been free of Maris so soon if it wasn't for him. That's what makes it worse! I have no right to hate him - but I do!  
  
Timing and courage is everything and unfortunately I seemed to have neither in the past. All my rational explanations for not asking her out long ago amounted to nothing more than fallacious reasoning, in light of what unfolded before my eyes in the café. Oh yes, I always had a monolith of excuses! First I was waiting for a sign from her, some type of evidence that she was attracted to me. Next I was waiting to be free of Maris. Then I was waiting to present myself as an unfettered man to her. I was always waiting, waiting, waiting --- but that is going to change!  
  
My mind is in a fog right now, what between the overload of sherry last night, the stress of the court proceedings with Maris and the discovery of Daphne and Donny being a couple. But I can't give up! I won't give up! I still might have a chance if I act quickly before they become too close.  
  
I shall continue to camouflage my passion for her in the guise of camaraderie. Oh, the friendship isn't a lie; it's just that I want it to be more than just that - much more.  
  
But what I need is some rest right now --- and then when I awake, maybe then I can start thinking of how I can get Daphne away from Donny.  
  
I've got to have a plan ---  
  
Adieu.  
  
Stay tuned for Part 9 (to be continued) 


	9. Chapt 9: Wandering in the Fields of Asph...

Just One Look  
By Valma  
  
Author's note: I couldn't have done this chapter without Anne T's help. She found the poem "Thou Hast Wounded the Spirit That Loved Thee" by Mrs. David Porter (circa - late 1800's?) which sums up Niles' feelings so well for this phase of his life. Eternally grateful Anne! -VJM  
Part 9: Wandering in the Fields of Asphodel  
  
Daphne's Diary  
  
Dear Diary:  
  
I love that man!  
  
I really do!  
  
He is so sweet and considerate. He'd do anything for me and always seems to put up with all my foul, hysterical moods.  
  
I am so lucky to have him around.  
  
Without him, I doubt Donny and I would be planning our wedding right now.  
  
I hope he knows that I was truly sincere when I apologized to him tonight.  
  
I wouldn't want to intentionally hurt his feelings - I'm sure he knows that by now. I've already asked forgiveness twice, but I probably should do it again. I was abnormally harsh with him this evening, but then, in my defense I had been going through a particularly tough time, what with that strange vision and all. Still, that's no excuse for the way I treated him really.  
  
My visions have never really given me much worry before, but in this instance they were disturbing enough that I decided to go to Dr. Crane for advice. He is after all, one of my best friends. Oh, I know I could have gone to one of my girlfriends, but they seem so --- well, so silly sometimes, and Dr. Crane is not only very intelligent, but also a very sensitive and a remarkably open-minded, spiritual person for a man of science. I wanted to use him as a sounding board for some difficult decisions I found myself having to make.  
  
You see I had one of me psychic flashes, right after I found out that Donny was planning on asking me to marry him. In it I could see the unmistakable image of the church. The ceremony was about to begin and Donny was standing beside me in a dapper tux. When it came to the part where they ask if there are any objections up popped this --- this person and announced that he was the one true love of my life, though he'd never had the nerve to tell me. I slowly turned in the direction of that voice. Although everything seemed a bit murky, I had a very vivid sense of being frightened by the stark fact that I totally believed in the sincerity of his words. That part was crystal clear even though his voice was unrecognizable and his face was hidden by the deep shadows of the chapel's walls.  
  
Who was this man? Was he a demon sent to bedevil my happiness? Or was he, in fact, the man I was meant to be with? I wanted to move closer to get a better view, but found myself rooted to the spot where I stood. The only distinguishing detail I could make out was that he was wearing this rather large, gaudy red bow tie about his neck. Now, I know that sometimes in visions objects symbolize feelings or mean something more than what they just are, but for the life of me I couldn't place any significance on that item.  
  
The one thing I did know was, that after an extrasensory apparition such as this, I had to question whether I should marry Donny. But it just didn't make any sense to me. I love Donny. He's a great guy and he loves me and he wants to marry me. Why was I the recipient of a cosmic warning like this? Why shouldn't I marry him? I couldn't see any reason really.  
  
But then, on the other hand, it was like every fiber of the metaphysical world was telegraphing me, telling me to wait for this mystery man. I could hardly ignore such an omen, could I? I've always trusted in what they had to say.  
  
It was all so confusing! I needed help sifting through my feelings and Dr. Crane seemed to be the perfect person for me to turn to. At first, when I was in his office, he was very supportive of my intuitive reaction to break it off with Donny. He assured me that my visions were not to be taken lightly and agreed with me that to continue seeing Donny would be unfair to both of us. But he came to me later and told me that he was worried that he may have misled me with that advice. He wanted me to know that I could have had this vision as a result of a very real fear of making a commitment to Donny. He suggested that I re-examine my feelings and make a more rational decision instead of just rejecting Donny on something that amounted to nothing more than getting "cold feet".  
  
Well, with all the pressures of that perplexing dream and both the other Cranes giving me the gears about my gift for foretelling, I was in no mood for his revised judgements. I let him have it - with both barrels! I feel so embarrassed now thinking how I shouted him down, attacking him scornfully, accusing him of being arrogant and unfeeling towards me. I also made it perfectly clear that I would continue to believe in my visions regardless of his or others' opinions of their validity. I was so furious at what I considered to be his condescending attitude that I could barely contain myself. I heard the doorbell ring and knew that Donny had finally arrived to take me out for the evening. I yelled something about one of them letting him in and stormed off to my bedroom to cool off.  
  
Slamming the door of my room, I threw myself down on the bed. I wanted to cry and pound my fists into my pillow - have a real blowout, but then it struck me --- why was I so upset by what Dr. Crane had said? Was it that he had just hit too close to home? The doubts that I had felt before crept up on me again.  
  
Should I follow my psychic intuitions and reject Donny? Or was it like Dr. Crane said - I had this dream because I was frightened of making a commitment. Was I was just trying to find a way out of this proposal by conveniently blaming it on the fates instead of answering a simple question - did I want to marry Donny?  
  
I think now I'm finally ready for marriage. A few years ago, I might have balked, but it's surprising what too much time being single can do for the ripeness of a woman. Lately I had begun to picture myself more and more as a wife --- and even a mother eventually.  
  
It's not like Donny isn't a good enough man. He's kind to me and attentive to my wants and desires. He's intelligent and good at his job. He's ambitious and a real "go for it" kind of guy. I could do a lot worse. I don't see anyone else lining up at my doorstep. And he seems anxious to have children. Not many chaps are willing to take on that sort of responsibility so eagerly. Yes, I could do a lot worse!  
  
But still, the thought of taking such a leap scared me all the same --- it was a pretty big step in one's life. How well did Donny and I know each other actually? We've only been going out for such a short while. Was he really my "one and only" or just the only one who was asking at this point in time? How could I be sure that we weren't going to end up like Mum and Daddy, always brawling and yelling at each other? Would Donny love me if I weren't the "gorgeous", "intelligent" creature that he said I was when we first met? Say I plumped up, or didn't always say the smartest of things? Would there be that secret ingredient in our relationship, that indefinable essence of love that would carry us through the tough times? All these questions kept rattling around in my head.  
  
But it was time to face the music. Donny was waiting in the other room. I smoothed out my dress and ran a brush through my hair. I couldn't keep him waiting any longer.  
  
The tension was off the meter as I came out into the living room. Everybody, including Donny seemed to be walking on eggs. My heart was pounding in my throat as I nervously greeted Donny and he asked everyone to sit down for a moment. I knew he was going to "pop the question" and I started to shake from head to toe. I thought I was going to either faint or throw up.  
  
But all those feelings disappeared as I heard Donny pour his heart out to me in the Crane's living room, with a "full house" in attendance. As I listened, I decided right then and there that what Dr. Crane had said was right - I was just scared, nothing more, and it was time I grew up and --- and what better way to do that, than to say, "I do" to Donny Douglas. I felt a sense of great relief. It was over. I had made my decision. There was no going back now --- no second-guessing myself. I had committed myself to Donny.  
  
As soon as possible I cornered Dr. Crane and told him how grateful I was that he helped me see what I should have seen all along. I was relieved when he wished me well and gave me a hearty hug. But I sensed he was still upset, when later I caught him staring at me with a look that could only be described as a "kicked puppy" face. He barely said two words to me the rest of the evening. In the middle of the champagne toast he excused himself and went off to the bathroom. When he returned his eyes darted around the room several times and then he wandered out onto the balcony. Donny was busy explaining to both Frasier and Mr. Crane the details of our trip to Alaska, so I slipped out to see if Dr. Crane was all right.  
  
"Dr. Crane?" I gently said. "Mind if I join you?"  
  
He shook his head no, but didn't say anything.  
  
We stood there in silence in the cool breeze for a while. The sounds of the city echoed off of the buildings. I heard him take a large gulp of air before he spoke.  
  
"Well, when do you think the big day will be?"  
  
"Oh," I started, "I think it will take a while to plan. There are so many people to contact. I have to phone my family tonight, but just getting them all over here will be a nightmare. You know, from the stories I've told --- they aren't the easiest bunch."  
  
I laughed and glanced over to see if he was going to join me. His eye remained focused on the horizon. But I did see a trace of a smile forming at the corners of his mouth.  
  
I took the opportunity and plunged ahead.  
  
"Dr. Crane ---" I was surprised how shaky I suddenly felt.  
  
"Dr. Crane," I began again. "I want to make sure you know that I consider you my closest friend and I am really so sorry about those things I said to you earlier. I had no right to accuse you of, well - it was rude of me. Please forgive me - really forgive me?"  
  
My hands gripped the rail until I thought I had lost all feeling in them. I held my breath.  
  
He reached out and steadied himself with the help of the railing. Our hands were only inches apart. I had the sudden urge to clasp his hands in mine - just to make sure he knew my sincerity was genuine.  
  
But without warning he turned sharply, drew himself up stiffly and looked me squarely in the face.  
  
"Daphne," he said decisively. "There's no need for you to apologize. I understand what happened tonight. I'm a trained therapist. I know when people are under stress that sometimes things don't always come out right. I wasn't exactly clear earlier today either. There's nothing you said, or did, tonight that could ever come between our friendship. Please --- don't worry about it or give it a second thought."  
  
He gave a brief smile to end his affectionate lecture and stuffed his hands in his pockets.  
  
I didn't know what to say. He sounded so --- so formal. I smiled back and mumbled "Thank you, Dr. Crane."  
  
Just then Donny tapped on the glass of the door summoning us in. A short joke about it being late enough now to get my mum out of bed to phone the good news to her broke any opportunity for further discussion. Things seemed to be wrapping up anyway. Dr. Crane headed towards the door.  
  
I pushed any lingering thoughts that he might still be smarting from my insults to the back of my mind and concentrated on the monumental task of talking to my mother.  
  
Moments later as Donny took the phone from me and we strolled off to the privacy of my bedroom, I turned and gave a backward glance at the departing Dr. Crane and his brother. The two of them didn't notice me, half hidden behind the room's center post, but I had a clear view of them. Frasier put his hand upon his younger brother's shoulder in an obvious gesture of sympathy and shook his head slowly. Dr. Crane's face was grimly earnest as he spoke in a low tone. After returning a muffled comment Frasier gave his brother a heartfelt hug, which ended in a hardy clap on his back. Was this reaction really a result of my earlier explosion? Or was it something more? My conscience won't be fully eased until I apologize once more --- and I'll make him his favourite glazed carrots the next time he is over for supper.  
  
I've got to learn to control my temper! Sometimes I'm like a fire- breathing monster when I get wound up!  
  
Speaking of which, strangely enough I had one more vision tonight. It was similar to the other one, but this time my mystery man was standing at the back of the church holding a dragon in his hands. It wasn't a live dragon - it was a statue, about six inches high and black or dark brown in color. I'm sure now that Dr. Crane was totally right about me just being panicky earlier - imagine me running around looking for red bow ties and dragons! That would be silly!  
  
Well, I had better get some sleep. Donny's been snoring for hours and I want to keep up with him tomorrow when we start planning our nuptials.  
  
Tah-tah, for now Diary!  
  
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My Journey Through Life - Niles Crane  
  
"Thou hast wounded the spirit that loved thee  
  
And cherish'd thine image for years;  
  
Thou hast taught me at last to forget thee,  
  
In secret, in silence, and tears."  
  
Good bye Daphne - adios, sayonara, fare-thee-well and adieu.  
  
Oh, I'm not going anywhere, but it is goodbye all the same.  
  
There's a real ending for me that's come about, a departure of sorts, that definitely signifies a mental distancing though, rather than a physical one. For Daphne --- paradoxically, nothing has changed between us. She'll never even notice, I would suspect.  
  
But I do.  
  
After years of yearning for her and dreaming about her, after hoping beyond all hope that she would find it in herself to feel something more than just friendship for me, I'm giving up. It's finally over. I am facing the fact that this exercise in futility has to end and willingly relegating her to the background of my life. When I say "willingly", it's more of a matter of that I have no choice. I have to back away from her emotionally now. I have to because she is about to become a married woman.  
  
Donny Douglas did, in less than six months, what I wanted to do for nearly six long years, but never could seem to accomplish - he captured her heart.  
  
She will soon become Mrs. Douglas. Mrs. Daphne Douglas, Mrs. Donald Douglas, Mrs. Donald Ronald Douglas - no matter how I say it, it still is a hard pill to swallow!  
  
I can't go back in my mind to that devastating scene without having a rather large glass of hard liquor in my hand. Tonight the choice is brandy ---  
  
I remember all too clearly the numbness I felt creeping over me, as I sat paralyzed on the couch in my brother's apartment, witnessing, slack-jawed all the while, as Donny got down on bended knee and proposed to her. There he was, saying the passionate words that should have been coming out of my mouth --- from deep within my heart! It was him presenting her a ring as symbol of their future commitment to each other and holding her in his arms joyously while she cried tears of acceptance. Him - not me!  
  
I could have sworn all those in the room, Frasier, Dad and the aforementioned "happy couple", could hear the shattering sound of my heart as it splintered into a million pieces. I heard it, and felt it --- but she didn't apparently. Congratulations ringed the room all around as I, in state of dazed stupefaction, lurched aimlessly into the kitchen.  
  
I didn't whine, rant, rend my garments or even shed a tear, actually. That sort of exhibition would have trivialized what had transpired.  
  
You see there is something unique about the absolute suffering that accompanies such an experience.  
  
That type of anguish does afford one a certain clarity, an uncluttered view of what is important in life. It is cleansing in a way, a true catharsis. It's like what a chemist does with a flame - the burning away of the impurities produces something concentrated and potent.  
  
A while back I questioned whether I truly loved Daphne, asked myself if it wasn't just temporary infatuation or a manufactured reaction to living under the oppression of Maris. But in the fire of that brutal moment, when the daily clutter of the minutiae in my life suddenly vaporized, nothing was left except the pure intensity of the love I have for her.  
  
And in that instant I realised also that I had to let her be who she was, and not who I wanted her to be. If I really did love her, I had to be her "good friend" that night above all else. I had to let go of my own selfish desires for her once and for all, give her a embrace and wish her well.  
  
I had to love her enough --- to stop loving her.  
  
It was, as Dad said to me, the "right" thing to do.  
  
It may have been the proper action to take, but it hurt like Hades all the same, at the time. And it still does. I suppose it always will - a little. I still have the occasional dream about her - can't quash my subliminal impulses completely --- yet. The latest one surfaced with the imbibing of too much vodka. She was dancing --- dancing just for me, looking very alluring - but wearing a wedding dress --- I have to stop doing that to myself!  
  
"Though this heart may still cling to thee fondly  
  
And dream of sweet memories past,  
  
Yet hope, like the rainbow of summer,  
  
Gives a promise of Lethe at last."  
  
I knew I couldn't just audaciously interfere with her choice. What right did I have to confront her and demand she change her mind? She was happy with Donny. I wasn't stupid - I could see that.  
  
When she first met him, of course, I didn't want to accept it though. I was convinced that I had a chance and I tried to manipulate the circumstances so that Donny would leave her. I'm not proud of this, but when I found out that Roz regretted splitting up with Donny, I arranged for them to "accidentally" meet up again in hopes of rekindling their relationship. Then, I calculated I would be there ready to proclaim my love for Daphne when Donny conveniently vacated the scene. But my clever ploy didn't work. In fact, it just succeeded in driving them more quickly towards the next level in their relationship. After my little scheme went astray they stole away to a bed and breakfast and had --- had --- I can't even write the word, but suffice it to say they weren't just holding hands. If only I could erase "that" chimera from my mind!  
  
"Thus we're taught in this cold world to smother  
  
Each feeling that once was so dear;  
  
Like that young bird I'll seek to discover  
  
A home of affection elsewhere."  
  
I tried hiding my emotions, still secretly loving her from the sidelines, clinging to the hope that she would wake up some day and see that it was me who deserved her love --- but that didn't work any more than my chicanery involving Roz did. I only ended up dying slowly inside every time I saw Donny and her together. It was torture, pure and simple - my jealousy and rage could never be completely contained and my frustrated displays often ended up embarrassing not only myself, but all others around me as well.  
  
I then sought to purge her from my soul by substituting, in rapid succession, a meaningless parade of other women in my life. But I was really just desperately floundering about, not particularly caring into whose arms I fell into. In hindsight, I know there was no real connection with any of these women. I just couldn't face the lack of Daphne in my life.  
  
First there was Kit - a temporary opiate that I needed to dull the initial pain more than anything else. Our affair was a misguided manifestation of self-deception that left me with a broken boxspring and a wounded woman- child in its wake.  
  
Then there was Jean, the woman with the "birthday" cat, Mr. Waggles. I don't even want to talk about that really. I'll just simply state that that date was what I have always imagined being in purgatory must be like and leave it at that.  
  
That of course, led to my disastrous foray into the escort service game, where I promptly was "hooked" up with Sabrina - a prostitute. Needless to say I gargled until my throat was raw after that unfortunate pairing.  
  
Next came Poppy, who was sweet and bubbling over with ego-inflating flattery, but definitely was not my type when I look back on it. Besides there were "complications" with Frasier that caused a strain on our relationship. Thank God her mother sold the family's interest in KACL and Poppy moved on. I don't think I could have taken her withering looks any longer whenever I went to meet Frasier at the radio station. Apparently Hell hath no fury like an heiress who thinks her date is a two-timing psychiatrist "pervert".  
  
Perhaps with those "successes" added to my romantic résumé I should be glad to just let my love life slip into a dreary oblivion and hope that somehow, over time, I will find a level of comfort with Daphne in my life without feeling the pangs of regret.  
  
Maybe it's just merely that I am fated in matters of love to always wander in the "Fields of Asphodel" rather than inhabit the hallowed "Elysian Fields".  
  
I'm no heroic figure after all. Just a man, who couldn't ever bring himself to say, "I love you Daphne" when it counted the most.  
  
"Injuriarum remedium est oblivio"  
  
(Oblivion is the remedy for injuries) - Seneca  
  
Adieu.  
  
Stay tuned for Part 10 (to be continued) 


	10. Chapt 10: D is for Dating

Just One Look  
By Valma  
Part 10: "D" is for Dating  
  
My Journey Through Life - Niles Crane  
  
I met a woman today.  
  
Mel.  
  
Mel Karnofsky --- actually Dr. Melinda Karnofsky to be exact.  
  
And I want to be exact about her - she kind of exudes exactness.  
  
I've known of her for a while. That is, I have heard of her name. She's Maris' most recent plastic surgeon, ironically enough. But I just always assumed that Mel was short for Melvin, whenever I looked at the cost of her procedures on the invoice. So much for my political correctness!  
  
At any rate, our meeting today was rather a strange coincidence. Frasier was slightly injured in a minor motor mishap this morning and to be on the safe side we trundled over to the emergency department at Seattle General to have the laceration on his nose checked out. While we were there I inquired about the possibility of seeing a surgeon, if indeed the damage might require reconstruction, and when the clerk rhymed off the list of staff doctors, Mel Karnofsky's name popped up. When I told Frasier that I was still getting billed by this particular practitioner for Maris' botox injections, even though we have been divorced for almost a year now, he suggested that I pay the avaricious Dr. Karnofsky a visit to straighten things out.  
  
Even though while I waited in her office I was spoiling for a fight, when she finally made her appearance I became totally disarmed. I don't know exactly what I had been expecting to find as I turned around to greet her, but I am certain it wasn't a petite, shapely woman who seemed the epitome of culture and refinement. She assured me that everything would be looked after and apologized quickly for the billing error. Her manner was professional, but genial and although I can't claim that we exchanged any significant remarks in those first few moments, I sensed that she didn't mind letting the conversation wander off topic.  
  
Desperately searching for any object in the room that would lend itself to further dialogue, my eyes fell upon a charming Picasso print behind her desk. I commented on how much I liked that piece and she returned my remark with a witty aside. As we talked further it seemed that we had enough things in common to make a connection between us not only plausible, but also almost eerily inevitable. She was on the museum board, had a meticulous temperament, doubtlessly appreciated art and seemed to part of a well-connected milieu.  
  
I was intrigued. I hadn't noticed any wedding band on her finger. The mere thought about anything remotely associated with a state of wedlock made me wince --- Daphne would soon be married. She would have a ring on her finger. She would have someone to come home to. She would ---  
  
Didn't I deserve to have a life? Shouldn't I be allowed the possibility of some happiness?  
  
I have been thinking about this a lot. But then I had ample enough time by my self lately to do such pondering. Daphne has been so busy, caught up in the euphoric excitement of preparing for the wedding. Even Frasier seemed preoccupied for a while with it, interfering to the point that Daphne finally got exasperated and put him in his place. I really felt like I was just in the way.  
  
My newfound determination to find something to fill the void of Daphne enabled me to steal a glance at the picture on the good doctor's desk after she was called away briefly. There she was smiling warmly with her arm around the shoulder of a rather handsome youngish looking man. A dour records clerk, who came in to deposit a truckload of Maris' surgical files in the room, assured me it was her son and that Dr. Karnofsky was divorced. She certainly didn't look old enough to have a son that age. Artificially induced youthfulness perhaps? I shrugged it off. After living with Maris all those years, it certainly wasn't shocking in any respect to me that a woman might take advantage of technology to stave off the ticking of the clock. What really was interesting was the fact that it indicated that she was, to put it crudely, "available".  
  
I realized that my curiosity was being driven by an obvious attraction to her. Here was a perfectly lovely woman that I had met, intelligent, comely, sophisticated, who traveled in the same social circle as I did. Our personalities seemed to mesh. She was unattached and so was I. All that remained was for me to step up and ask her out. That's all - that simple.  
  
And of course, true to form, I couldn't do it.  
  
But I did succeed in getting myself an appointment with her to give me a botox injection to take away, as she said "those nasty little wrinkles in your forehead". I didn't realize they were so conspicuous --- at any rate when I go back at 4:30 for the procedure it will give me another opportunity to ask her out. This time I am determined to do it, too - I want to move on with my life!  
  
I can find someone!  
  
If not Mel Karnofsky, then someone else!  
  
But it will happen - soon!  
  
Adieu!  
  
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My Journey Through Life - Niles Crane  
  
Well, here I am with a forehead full of numbing toxins and dateless!  
  
I went to my appointment with Mel Karnofsky fully intending to query her on the prospect of a date. As I sat in her outer office I rehearsed numerous permutations on the hackneyed "Would you like to go out?"  
  
But it was all for not. Those words, nor anything remotely resembling them, ever escaped from my lips.  
  
Opportunities lost - story of my life.  
  
I'd better go over to Frasier's and see how he made out with his injured nose.  
  
Adieu.  
  
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* My Journey Through Life - Niles Crane  
  
Third time's a charm --- right?  
  
Let's hope.  
  
This time I'm not going to be coy, subtle or allow myself to get snipped, tucked or injected with any more toxic substances. I am just going to ask her flat out to accompany me to the opera. I am definitely going to do it - by God!  
  
You may be wondering --- what has inspired this renewed tenacity?  
  
A rather perspicacious conversation I had with my blunt but loving brother, actually.  
  
It came about after I made a second attempt at becoming more than a mere patient with the good doctor and ended up with a rather miniscule mole being extirpated by her instead.  
  
Frasier happened to notice the bandaged evidence of my dating timidity and proceeded to chastise me.  
  
"Isn't it time you just asked the woman out?"  
  
Of course it was! But didn't he understand anything at all? I wanted to -- - absolutely! I didn't want to spend the rest of my days in an endless loop of aching loneliness and solitary self-gratification activities. It -- - it's just that it isn't easy for me to be bold and decisive in such things. I like to take my time, not rush into romance, like some people I know.  
  
"I'm just waiting until the moment's right."  
  
I knew the instant the words came out of my mouth that I sounded pusillanimous. Just like I knew that Frasier probably wasn't finished with his lecture. But instead of droning on about me "taking life by the horns" or "striking while the iron was hot", Frasier cut quickly and cruelly to the bone with a question that sent me reeling.  
  
"Like you did with Daphne?"  
  
For one split second I wanted to punch him in his smug face.  
  
But then I realised it wasn't a snide condemnation. He was supplying me with what I needed the most - a swift kick in the derriere.  
  
I really was repeating the exact same behavior patterns as I "did with Daphne". And just look at what my endless procrastinations and alibis produced - Daphne falling in love with someone else --- and as for me --- well, I was left being forever on the outside, never to share in the intimate trivialities and details of her life. Now I would be relegated to merely watching from the pews as she gracefully strolled down the aisle into the awaiting arms of Donny Douglas, tossing the obligatory rice as she dashed off on her honeymoon, giving her a subdued hug as she announced her impending motherhood ---  
  
No! I swore that I wouldn't keep doing this! Dwelling on these things isn't healthy --- but it is soooo difficult when there is no one else in my life!  
  
Thus - I have my car keys in my hand and I am determined to give Mel a chance to rescue me from the disheartening emptiness that still seems to threaten me.  
  
I know I can do this!  
  
I will be charming, persistent and receptive.  
  
This time I will succeed!  
  
Adieu!  
  
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Daphne's Diary  
  
Dear Diary:  
  
It seems Dr. Crane has a girlfriend finally.  
  
I'm happy for him, of course.  
  
He's been through so much over the past little while that he really needs a stable relationship with someone in his life right now.  
  
I haven't been formally introduced to her or anything, but I did overhear him talking about her with his brother late last night. I don't usually make a habit of eavesdropping, but I just happen to be coming out to get myself a glass of warm milk before bed, and as I came down the hallway I heard them chatting in the living room. I don't know why I didn't just make my presence known and then make a hasty exit, but I didn't. Maybe it's the snoop in me. Listening in is kind of exciting and a wee bit naughty - you never know what you might hear.  
  
At any rate, I crouched down in the shadows, just out of view behind the piano and proceeded to secretly get filled in on all the details.  
  
He had just come back from his first date with her. It was good to hear some joy in his voice again as he breathlessly twittered on about her, waving his arms every once in a while to make his point. He was like a kid who had just got a brand new bike.  
  
I miss talking to him - the way his voice rises and falls as he gets excited about various things, the way he pauses and stretches out his words while he is thinking. Since I got engaged I have been so busy with Donny I haven't had much time to gab with Dr. Crane the way I used to. And even when he is here nowadays, he seems more distanced somehow. Perhaps it is just an after effect of all the pressure he went through with his divorce and all.  
  
Anyway, her name is Mel Karnvinski, or something like that - it sounds foreign. She's a doctor, although not a psychiatrist like the Crane brothers. She's a plastic surgeon. They seem to have a lot in common. She's a big fan of opera, which of course pleases Dr. Crane to no end. He also mentioned something about her being on the museum board. She seems to know all the right people in Seattle. And she is the owner of a Svenson. I figure that is either a rare painting or some kind of a cleaning device, by the way his eyes danced when he mentioned this. They seem perfect for each other by the way he talks.  
  
Which makes it all the more strange that his brother met all Dr. Crane's bubbling with a less than enthusiastic reception. He seemed almost cool during the whole conversation, inserting only the occasional "uh-uh" or "I see". The only time he sounded truly responsive was when Dr. Crane thanked him for his part in getting the two of them together.  
  
"Frasier, I didn't just expeditiously hasten over here at this late hour to boast about all the fine attributes of Mel --- I --- I also wanted to make sure that you knew that I will always be eternally grateful to you for the brotherly advice you metered out to me this afternoon."  
  
"Well, we all need a push now and then," Frasier mumbled as he patted his brother arm. "I just didn't want to see you go through the same torment that you did with - "  
  
"I know, I know," interrupted Dr. Crane. "But at least, I have some hope now of having a real relationship."  
  
There was a hint of desperation in his voice. Frasier picked up on this and seemed to become much more animated suddenly.  
  
"Are you --- are you really hopeful Niles?" said Frasier. "Do you think someone like Mel could be the one to let you forget --- really forget --- about --- her?"  
  
"Of course it's only one date, but yes, I can see how Mel could be the one to --- to help me bury the past and start looking forward in my life. The potential is there, I think."  
  
"Well, don't rush into anything," his brother cautioned. "Take time to get to know her, please. She may not be everything you want her to be. You may find that she isn't right for you."  
  
"In that case, I'll just press on," Dr. Crane said solemnly. "What other option do I have? That was made abundantly clear to me with the choice that --- that she made."  
  
He looked down at his shoes and sighed.  
  
I bit my lower lip fighting back the tears that seemed to be unexpectedly welling up in my eyes. He had been so badly hurt by that ex-wife of his! I shook my head and wondered how much of a blind fool that woman had to have been to reject the love of such a man!  
  
"Bloody wally!" I whispered under my breath. "You never realised what a prize you had in your grasp!"  
  
Frasier cleared his throat and then glanced over at his brother.  
  
"I'm sorry I was so harsh this afternoon, Niles --- I just want my little brother to be happy, you know."  
  
"I know, I know," Dr. Crane said deliberately. "And I think it is finally possible now."  
  
"Well then let's end on that note!" Frasier declared and they both rose off the sofa and headed for the door, saying their goodnights as they walked.  
  
I took the opportunity to sneak back to my room undetected.  
  
I'm kind of anxious to meet this new girlfriend of his. It sounds like she may turn out to be just what the good doctor ordered.  
  
Goodnight Diary.  
  
Stay tuned for Part 11 (to be continued) 


	11. Chapt 11: Thrills, Pills 'n Spills

Just One Look  
By Valma  
Part 11: Thrills, Pills 'n Spills  
  
My Journey Through Life - Niles Crane  
  
I am saved!  
  
Like a desert traveler who finally reaches the oasis, I can quaff from the refreshing waters and at last forget about his terrible thirst.  
  
It's all behind me - the loneliness, the yearning for companionship --- I now have someone to share my life with.  
  
Mel has appeased my parched soul.  
  
We have been out every night this week and I feel that things are developing very well. I feel like I have known her all my life in some ways. As I said before, she enjoys all the same cultural pursuits as me - art, the opera, fine dinning and has a great appreciation for rare wines. She has a keen mind and is very attentive to the details in life. Especially details that concern me - she knows just what tie I should wear with what jacket, what shoes go best with what outfit and when it is just the right time to get my hair trimmed. She likes to arrive on time to events and likes to thoroughly research anything before suggesting a course of action. There is an aura of accuracy about her that, having lived so many years with Maris, I easily can enjoy again.  
  
But there is so much more to her. I think she is genuinely interested in me. I feel important when I am in her presence. Mel laughs at my jokes, listens to my stories and pays me all sorts of attention. Like Daphne used to do, or like she still would do if she weren't so busy preparing to marry Donny Douglas. There's a symbiosis growing between Mel and me - a connection that gets stronger each time we rendezvous.  
  
And we share another tie as well - we both are wounded individuals. We both have suffered at the hands of a past partner.  
  
Ah yes, there's much that we have in common.  
  
With Mel, it was her ex-husband, Barry. She didn't want to talk about it at first, but then, after dinner two days ago, she opened up on the drive back to her apartment.  
  
They met when they were both interns. He reminded her of her father - quiet, finical, sophisticated --- and ultimately unfaithful. She finally caught on to Barry's infidelities and divorced him after their son went off to college. She told me how devastated she was, how his adultery had scarred her and made her very untrusting and circumspect when it came to intimate relationships.  
  
When I revealed to her that I probably was the one person who really understood her pain because of what Maris did to me, she simply nodded and then quietly asked me if I would like to come up to her apartment for some coffee.  
  
Nooooo, we didn't have sex. But we did talk some more about our mendacious mates, commiserating with each other about the aftereffects. I told her about how emotionally drained I had been when Maris destroyed all my efforts to reconcile and took it upon herself to have a dalliance with Schenkman.  
  
"When it happened to me," Mel said, her voice bleeding with certitude of someone who knew what treachery was all about. "I swore that I would never let myself be deceived like that again. Now I absolutely demand complete openness - no secrets. I think that truthfulness is the most valuable aspect of a relationship. You have nothing to hide from me do you, Niles?"  
  
"No, no --- certainly not," I clumsily confessed, taken a bit off guard by her directness. "In fact, I --- I experience spontaneous nosebleeds if I tell lies,"  
  
She smiled and edged in a bit closer to me.  
  
"How perfectly transparent of you," she murmured. "We should get along just fine, as long as I don't catch you going through too many hankies, my darling."  
  
My heart began to beat a little faster. She reached out and held my hand.  
  
I couldn't squander this opening! She was offering me my salvation on a platter. Here was a chance to put all my failures behind me - the bitterness of my wasted years with Maris, a myriad of cold showers and bad dates, and of course the disastrous experience of my unrequited feelings for Daphne. It was very satisfying, a real thrill actually, to finally know that someone whom I felt attracted to could actually desire me too.  
  
I leaned in slowly and we kissed - a long, deep kiss. I had almost forgotten what something like that can do to a person. When we broke apart I swear that my knees had the consistency of over-cooked pasta. The last time I felt like that about a kiss was --- was when Daphne and I went to the Snow Ball - but that, that is --- all in the past.  
  
Mel is the one who is in my future now.  
  
I'm going to ask her if she is available to go shopping this afternoon. I have to get Frasier something for his birthday and need some company while I try and find the perfect gift for the man who only thinks he has everything.  
  
Adieu.  
  
P.S. I have made a conscious decision not to tell Mel about my internal emotional debacle over Daphne, even though she seems insistent that we should be completely candid with each other.  
  
I keep telling myself that I don't think it can be considered dishonest to keep that to myself. It would make things too awkward for the immediate future, when we would be at Frasier's. Although, Daphne was never cognizant of my feelings towards her, I wouldn't want Mel brooding about the "what ifs" when we are around her. Daphne's life has taken an undeniable and emphatic direction away from me and I --- I had no choice but to turn the page on that chapter of my life. So I would prefer to put that particular part quietly aside, bury it deep and far away from the surface of my consciousness, rather than offering it up to Mel as a gesture of my veraciousness. I just can't do it.  
  
Furthermore, I don't think Mel would quite understand. I sense there is a pragmatic precision to her personality that I think indicates that she just wouldn't comprehend, or approve of, someone living so long in a --- a fantasy. And I want Mel's acceptance --- I need that more than anything else in my life at this time.  
  
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Daphne's Diary  
  
Dear Diary:  
  
Gobsmacked!  
  
I'm absolutely gobsmacked!  
  
Flabbergasted, stunned, in a daze - call it what you may, I'm sitting here in my room trying to wrap my mind around the fact that --- that Dr. Crane has had a crush on me for the longest time apparently!  
  
"Niles - he's crazy about you."  
  
Those words are forever burned into my memory.  
  
"He's crazy about you."  
  
That's what Frasier said.  
  
There was no mistaking the meaning - it was said with the kind of sureness that only comes with absolute certainty.  
  
And Mr. Crane confirmed it - said it had been going on for six years!  
  
Of course neither one of them realized just what they were telling me when they spilled this information, I think.  
  
Dr. Crane was zonked on back pills at the time - not enough to make things up, but just enough to loosen his tongue. Mr. Crane blurted his confirmation and then scurried away, declaring that he wasn't going to get any further involved. He now thinks I was talking about a misunderstanding that Frasier and I were having when I overheard him talking about missing me when I get married.  
  
It's all so --- so confusing.  
  
My whole world has been turned upside-down. All through Frasier's birthday dinner party tonight I couldn't even look into those dark blue eyes of his without thinking how he has been secretly feeling about me all these years. My mind kept travelling back - trying to recall the clues that I had failed to pick up on. Every fidgety little tick held a hidden meaning, the way he sighed at me, or sat staring at me from across the dinner table dreamily - it all meant something much more than what it appeared to.  
  
I thought we were friends - close friends --- the best of friends, actually, but nothing more. Now --- now I just don't know how to view him. It's utterly unnerving.  
  
It kind of colors our past relationship, doesn't it?  
  
All those little gifts he brought me, all the compliments about how wonderful I looked or how kind I was, all the silly excuses he came up with for showing up at the apartment constantly - they all made sense now. He was doting on me so because --- because he had the hots for me!  
  
How could I have been so blind, so oblivious to the obvious evidence that had been strewn like breadcrumbs along the path for me to follow? The times I caught him leaning in to sniff my hair - I explained it away with a shrug and a "That's odd." comment. The lavish gifts he presented to me - he was just being thoughtful and "generous". The times he took my side in arguments, no matter how absurd my position - he was merely flexible. I never connected the dots - until now.  
  
The things we did together - walking Eddie, going shopping, watching videos together on rainy afternoons, me teaching him to dance --- going out --- to - Oh, my God! --- the Snow Ball!  
  
He wasn't acting! He was pouring his heart out to me! And I --- I didn't know --- how I must have crushed him that night with my "You're a great actor," remark!  
  
Why didn't he just tell me? Why wasn't he honest and just say "I'd like to go out with you"?  
  
I never imagined that someone like him, so grand and so well off would be interested in someone like me, a working girl from Manchester - hired help basically.  
  
Bloody hell!  
  
Why do I feel so --- so rattled?  
  
It's odd - at first when I overheard Frasier talking to himself, saying that he "loved" me and had to tell me before it was too late, my first and lasting impression was one of queasiness. Repulsion would be more accurate, to tell the complete truth. I like him as a boss and as a friend, but the mere thought of --- him --- wanting to be --- intimate, I mean, it gives me the shivers. I just couldn't conceive of -  
  
When he assured me that he had no romantic designs on me, I breathed a big sigh of relief.  
  
But when he let it slip moments later that it was his brother who had been yearning after me all these years - it's --- it's hard to explain, but it certainly wasn't revulsion that I felt. It was --- it was just as much as a shock to be sure, but there was also a definite amount of amazement, I guess. And a sense of panic that I didn't know how to handle the information that I had just received.  
  
Why is it so hard? I feel like --- like I am going barmy!  
  
I'm trying to sort out my feelings, but it isn't easy. Dr. Crane --- that is, Niles --- is someone very special to me. We have shared so many moments together. He's never been condescending or unkind to me. I liked it when he came over and the other two were out. We would talk for hours, giggling over the antics of Buster Keaton, mutually tackling the folding of the laundry or combine our efforts in preparing supper - just spending time together, enjoying each other's company. I just liked being around him.  
  
Was all that an illusion - a ruse just so he could get close to me? What was going through his mind while I was chattering on about Michael's penchant for eating dirt as a youngster, or Grammy Moon's favourite saying when she had imbibed a quart of gin? Was he wishing that I would just shut up so he could enjoy the view down my blouse? No, no I refuse to believe that! Dr, Crane is above all that --- I think.  
  
This isn't good!  
  
This is a disaster! It makes everything so --- complicated.  
  
I am in love with Donny! We are going to get married!  
  
I love him - Donny, that is, and yet -  
  
And how do I even know that he still is "crazy" about me? So he might have had an infatuation with me at one time. Things change - people change. He's going out with that plastic surgeon now - Mel. He seems perfectly contented with her. She's into lah-di-dah" operas, snobby French foods and all that - just like he is. I can see that! He was just so miserable with that nutter of a wife of his that anyone looked like a good deal to him back then - even a working class gal like me. Now he's likely just moved on to someone that is more suited to him --- like Mel.  
  
So I've got nothing to worry about - have I. I love Donny. We are going to be married soon. Dr. Crane is going out Mel. They are happy.  
  
Nothing need change, nothing will change - everything is the way it should be. Everything is in order. The wedding will proceed. I won't say anything about what I learned today - ever. Dr. Crane will remain my friend and there won't be any mess about this little revelation.  
  
And yet --- I still feel uneasy. Why?  
  
Maybe --- maybe it is because I took the time to look at him tonight finally --- really look at him - something I think I haven't truly done since I met him. There he was in his impeccably tailored suit that hung just right on his slim frame, his brother's neatly wrapped birthday present clutched in his long, slender fingers. He spoke first, a polite greeting on his lips, saying my name carefully, the way he always does - rounding out the vowels.  
  
"Good evening, Daaaphneee."  
  
His gentle eyes shone like a floodlight on my soul.  
  
Could he somehow sense that I knew his secret? Or did he just notice that I seemed unstrung as I stood there gawking at him like he was starkers and tersely forced out his name.  
  
"Dr. Crane."  
  
Now it was his turn to return my awkward gaze.  
  
"You look different somehow," was what he diplomatically said. He seemed to carefully search my face, hunting for a reason for my strained manner - some explanation for the tension that made the air brittle with uneasiness. When I indicated that it could be the hat perched on my head like a dunce cap, he accepted my verdict and moved on to the distractions of Frasier's birthday celebration.  
  
But that fleeting moment shook me to the core.  
  
He was right - I am different, but it isn't my hair or a silly birthday hat. It's something deep inside of me - exactly what I don't know. I wish I could put a name to this feeling - this scary, absurd feeling that is making me shake like a leaf even still.  
  
G'night Diary.  
  
Stay tuned for Part 12 (to be continued) 


	12. Chapt 12: A Midnight Unclear

Just One Look  
  
By Valma  
  
Part 12: A Midnight Unclear  
  
Daphne's Diary  
  
Dear Diary:  
  
Deck the halls with bows of holly,  
  
Fah-la-la-la-lah-la-la-la-lah.  
  
T'is the season to be jolly,  
  
Fah-la-la-la-lah-la-la-la-lah.  
  
I can still hear that familiar song as it floated over the revelers who had gathered around the piano earlier in the evening to "sing in the season".  
  
It's almost Christmas. Donny was by my side, slurping on a rum eggnog. The apartment had been tastefully decorated this year, much to Mr. Crane's dismay. There was plenty of gourmet food and expensive booze. I had been told at least a hundred times by my devoted fiancé that the dress I was wearing looked "snazzy" and that I was a complete "knock out".  
  
The party went relatively smoothly once it finally got started, which is really surprising when you think of it. Nothing was set on fire, no one launched into an argument about the superiority of Brecht over Ionesco, everyone behaved in a perfectly civilized manner - some even looked like they were having fun, once the drinks started to flow.  
  
All was calm - all was bright.  
  
So why was I so disturbed by the evening's end?  
  
Why can't I get to sleep even now? I just keep staring at the clock - 2:00 a.m. now --- I feel like my brain is on fire.  
  
Why is it every time I close my eyes all I see Dr. Crane looking lovingly down at Mel as he tenderly slipped a pair of antique earrings that he had bought her onto her ears? I've tried to push that scene out of my mind, but it won't go away. Why should I care about that? He gave his girlfriend a Christmas present - big deal. They kissed discreetly and then stole quietly out of the party and weren't seen again. They probably went back to his place and --- and - what difference does it make to me what they did then? It's none of my bloody business! But --- there's also another bothersome image that keeps cropping up --- happened earlier, on the balcony --- ooooh, I wish Donny had decided to stay here for the night instead of going back to his apartment. I know he had to be up early to drive to Oregon to see his brother and his family, but I could really do with a hug from him right now. I've been on an emotional roller coaster ride all day and now it just seems to be getting worse, not better.  
  
I thought at one point that everything was going to finally turn around and be set right, but I was wrong --- even though what I had fearing the most all day, never happened.  
  
I should be relieved. I haven't any reason not to be.  
  
But strangely I'm not.  
  
Maybe I should start at the beginning ---  
  
I began to feel out of sorts when I accidentally heard Dr. Crane talking to his brother in the kitchen --- no, come to think of it, what really set me off, took place much earlier.  
  
Try as I might, I couldn't get what Frasier had said the other day out of my mind - about his brother having a --- a "thing" for me and how he had felt this way apparently from almost the first day we met. What's more, I found out that not only Frasier and Martin have known his little "secret" all this time, but Roz was aware of this --- this "crush" of his, as well! It seems that almost all of Seattle was privy to this news and evidently I was one of the last to find out.  
  
Well, anyway, when I talked to Roz about how messy and embarrassing this all was, I was happy to hear her agree with what I had thought of earlier. If Dr. Crane fancied Mel now, he was obviously over me and I was making plans to be happily married to Donny --- so what was the problem? As long as I didn't broadcast that I knew about Dr. Crane's past feelings, which had changed in all likelihood by now, then things would just carry on the way they should. There was obviously nothing between him and me, other than friendship, so why should I feel uncomfortable? He would always be Dr. Crane to me and that was that.  
  
For a while Roz's reassurance that I was making too much of this helped quell any uneasiness that I still was feeling, but then disaster struck!  
  
When Dr. Crane arrived at the apartment for the party I soon found out that he and Mel had had a terrible row and had broken up. Donny immediately started pushing him to retrace his romantic steps and go after "someone who got away"! I know he was just trying to be helpful and sympathetic, but he was actually leading Dr. Crane into a dangerous minefield, not realizing what might happen because of his meddling! He kept going on like a blithering idiot - I finally had to leave the room or I would have completely lost it! What was the matter with him? Couldn't he have just said "Gee, that's too bad," and shut his pie hole!  
  
To make matters worse, when Roz came she told me that she had overheard the fight between Dr. Crane and his girlfriend, and Mel had accused him of still being in love with someone else! I nearly swallowed my tongue! It had to be me she was talking about! He wasn't "over me" after all! With Mel out of the picture he was sure to make a move, especially after that "pep talk" that Donny had given him.  
  
To Roz it all seemed so simple - just let Dr. Crane down gently and forget about it, but I just didn't think it would turn out so neatly. Dr. Crane was bound to have a bruised ego no matter how carefully I rejected him. I was working for his brother and we would have to be around each other a lot. There were going to be tensions at times and maybe our friendship, which meant a lot to me, might be ruined. What if Donny found out? He can have quite a temper sometimes - I wouldn't want any sort of fracas to happen between them because of this! Oh God! All sorts of pitfalls presented themselves to me - what was I going to do?  
  
Once again Roz tried to buck up my spirits by reminding me that it was highly unlikely that Dr. Crane would say anything in front of Donny, so that might cool things off a bit and buy me some time. And who knows --- if he hadn't said anything for over six years, why would he blurt anything out now? Unless he thought things had changed between us --- had they? No! In fact, come to think about it, since I was engaged there was even less of a chance of --- no, make that "no" chance of anything happening! And if enough time passed, he might find someone else and then things would be back to where they should be! So all was not lost - I didn't have to panic. I was beginning to feel better again.  
  
That is until Dr. Crane divvied up the Christmas gifts that he had brought over. As soon as I held the small tastefully wrapped present in my hands I knew it was not some standard impersonal token of seasonal good cheer. It was jewelry - expensive jewelry! Something that someone buys to show a great amount of affection to someone near and dear - not something someone buys a mere friend --- even a very good friend! I felt myself begin to tremble. I looked at Roz for support --- where was Donny anyway? Where had he disappeared to now? I glanced around the room feeling a panicky sensation rising in my throat.  
  
And my nervousness didn't go way any time soon either, when minutes later I walked into the kitchen and overheard Dr. Crane confirm to his brother that he wanted to clear the air about his "feelings" tonight! I backed out of the room before they realised that I was there and ran in a complete tizzy to Roz.  
  
But before I had a chance to talk to her, Dr. Crane came out and asked to speak to me in private out on the balcony. For a split second I couldn't breathe. I felt like someone waiting for a verdict of guilty or innocent. I don't know how I managed to say "All right" but I did and he thanked me and made his way outside, closing the glass doors behind himself to wait for me there.  
  
Now, Roz, little "Miss Confident", decided to admit that she was mistaken about the situation and the "you-know-what" was about to hit the fan! She asked me what I was going to say to him when he declared his undying affection for me. At least that gave me an opportunity to form some kind of game plan before I spoke to him.  
  
I told her that I would get the drop on him - tell him right off the bat that I couldn't return his feelings.  
  
"I love Donny and nothing is going to happen between us."  
  
It sounded forthright, firm and no room for any argument. I was primed and ready. I strode out to meet him.  
  
There he was, gazing out into the inky darkness with a determined look of urgency on his face, his back straight as a rod, his fingers nervously dancing on the railing as if he were playing on a keyboard.  
  
I broke the silence first and punctuated the crisp night air with a brief "Hi".  
  
He pivoted around and faced me, his earnest eyes meeting mine as he started, "Daphne, er, I wish there was an easier way for me to say this, I - "  
  
I cut him off announcing that I had something that I wanted to say first.  
  
"Dr. Crane, I have to tell you that - "  
  
My mouth opened but no sound came out. I had been so prepared. It should have been easy --- right? Why couldn't I just say it?  
  
I stared at his face. It was so eager looking. So open and vulnerable. He leaned in slightly as if to encourage me to continue. Did he really have no inkling that I was about to shatter his hopes?  
  
A chilly wind swept across the balcony and I hugged my arms closer to my body.  
  
He immediately broke his concentration on my struggle to speak and roused himself, giving me a little bit of start.  
  
"Daphne, I'm sooo sorry, what am I thinking? Here - "  
  
And with those chivalrous words he doffed his suitcoat jacket as I turned and slipped it onto my awaiting shoulders. I felt the smoothness of the silk lining caress my bare skin. That fresh masculine fragrance, that is so much a part of him, surrounded me. A radiating warmth penetrated the cold with a speed that couldn't be explained by the mere weight of the material. I slowly repositioned myself so that I was facing him once more.  
  
"Oh, thank you. Anyway, Dr. Crane, I know - "  
  
My mind flashed back to that night of carnal wantonness when I tripped lightly down the stairs of his apartment wrapped in his Chinese silk robe ready to ravish him. How he must have strained to contain his desires after I teased him so cruelly and then abruptly ended his hesitant advances. But bridle them he did, without so much as a hint of resentment towards me --- because I wished it so. I had never realized what sway I had over him.  
  
I remembered the secret, sweet kiss that I stole as he lay sleeping, after his disastrous date with Daphylis --- Daph - y-lis, Daph --- he was trying to tell me all along. I just wasn't listening.  
  
And I thought of the desperate hug that he gave me as he wished me well on the night that Donny proposed. After that he seemed more distanced with me, more seriously respectful, less playful and unguarded. But still he said nothing to hurt my feelings ever, or give me a moment's grief.  
  
Never once. It was a humbling realization.  
  
"Yes?" he patiently prodded as I stood before him looking for all the world like a fish imploring its captor to be thrown back into the water.  
  
He may have never caused me anguish but I certainly had done my share to him in the past, and now here I was, about to do it again. This time however it was different - this time I knew what I was doing going in - this time I knew I was about to break his heart. I felt a flush of shame rise up in my cheeks.  
  
"I'm sorry, I --- "  
  
I really was - sorry, that is, for all the pain I had inadvertently caused him.  
  
And there was something more, something unexpected - an eruption of jumbled, chaotic feelings, both frightening and exciting, starting to take hold of me from deep inside.  
  
"Why don't I start?" he offered.  
  
"No, Dr. Crane --- "  
  
I knew I had to tell him it was never meant to be. I had my plans made - my life mapped out. Maybe if we had traveled a different path, maybe if we had met in Granville's years ago and he sat down beside me and said, "What are you doing for the rest of your life?" --- who knows?  
  
"No, no," he interrupted. "I really need to say this. I can't wait any longer. Daphne --- "  
  
Who knows what might have happened with the two of us if circumstances had been different?  
  
"Yes," I said anxiously.  
  
Perhaps --- we --- could have ---  
  
It wasn't such an impossible idea was it?  
  
"This is so difficult for me," he stuttered, his face showing the burden that was weighing him down.  
  
I know and --- and if I could I would make it easier for you, I would --- Niles.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
I was pushing him now, silently encouraging him to get what he had to say out.  
  
"I need my Christmas present back."  
  
For the second time in a week I was quite simply dumbfounded by what I heard!  
  
"You what?" I sputtered.  
  
"I need my present back - the one I gave you earlier tonight. I'm so embarrassed! " His words rushed out of him like a river overflowing its banks. "It was Dad's fault really --- "  
  
My mind went numb for a moment as he explained in detail about the mishap with my present and how, now that Mel and he had made up, that he needed it back to give to her --- or something like that. I wasn't really listening.  
  
"I feel terrible about this, and of course, I'll replace the gift." he pleaded, practically begging for my understanding.  
  
Whatever vague sensations I had been feeling before vanished in the backhand slap of reality that was delivered to me as I stood there in front of him on that balcony.  
  
I had obviously grossly miscalculated his state of mind. I had to quickly retreat gracefully before I was completely humiliated.  
  
"That's all right."  
  
Suddenly wearing his coat felt like a transgression of his privacy. It represented a closeness reserved for someone else now.  
  
"Well, I won't be needing this anymore."  
  
I handed his jacket back to him and faked my way through a plausible, but completely fabricated explanation of why I had interrupted him before he could ask about recovering his gift for Mel.  
  
And right on cue I looked up and there she was - Mel.  
  
Dr. Crane politely excused himself and made his way over to her, deftly plucking my name off of the brightly done up box before he presented it to her.  
  
I slipped into the room behind him, inconspicuously trying to mingle with the sudden throng of guests that seemed to have materialized out of nowhere.  
  
The party was just starting to get into gear.  
  
Roz sidled over to me to get the scoop on what had happened outside.  
  
I explained that he apparently never intended to make any passionate confession, that he just wanted his gift back to give to Mel and --- and that I couldn't be any more relieved.  
  
Donny was waiting for me near the piano. I walked over to join him in the singing. The crisis was over and nothing had happened. Everything was back on course. There wasn't any more confusion in me.  
  
And yet --- it's now 3:00 a.m. and here I am, still unable to sleep.  
  
I think what is really bothering me is simply this --- why couldn't I just say it?  
  
"I love Donny and nothing is going to happen between us."  
  
I tried --- I really did - the words just wouldn't come out of my mouth.  
  
I just couldn't say that to Dr. Crane --- to Niles.  
  
And I don't know why.  
  
Good Night Diary.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
My Journal Through Life - Niles Crane  
  
Tonight Mel and I had sex for the first time.  
  
I guess you could say it was "make-up" sex, which I always thought was particularly exhilarating --- does that make me perverted?  
  
Anyway, it had been a perfectly wretched past few days, what with first Yoshi dying and then when I went over to offer my condolences to Maris, the whole thing being blown out of proportion, by her --- and by Mel, when she found out about it.  
  
I blame Frasier. He was the one who encouraged me to lie to Mel. I should have known better, I should have just been honest with Mel and told her exactly what was going on, of course, but he sounded so confident --- so sure that telling your girlfriend about visiting your ex-wife was such a "faux pas", that I fell for it.  
  
Naturally Mel discovered my subterfuge. And she was rightly outraged by what I had done. She accused me of still loving Maris, which is patently not true! But she didn't give me a chance to explain myself and stormed out declaring that she wasn't about to "share" me with anyone, so our relationship was over.  
  
I left about a dozen messages on her phone attempting to apologize and elucidate my position, but hadn't heard back from her by the time I got to Frasier's Christmas party, which seemed at first to be shaping up to be another usual Crane calamity. Everyone seemed a little on edge - especially Daphne for some reason. None of the expected guests had shown up and Frasier was at his "royal snit" best. My melancholy mood didn't improve at all when Dad started up that idiotic dancing Santa he somehow resuscitates every season and toppled over the presents I had brought for everyone. Of course his carelessness broke the one gift that I had spent the most time deliberating about - the delicate crystal unicorn that I had got Daphne.  
  
I felt terrible. It had taken hours to find the perfect gift for her. It had to be not too personal - that wouldn't have been right, seeing how she was an engaged woman now. At the same time, I wanted it to be unique to her and I knew that she would cherish this fragile bauble, seeing how she collects those types of ornaments.  
  
And the disasters didn't stop there. Dad, in his infinite wisdom, suggested that I substitute the earrings that I had brought for Mel, for Daphne's mutilated figurine. That sounded like a marvelous solution at the time, so I did just that, but it turned out to be just one more dilemma to deal with when Mel phoned me up and finally acceded to giving me a second chance. Then it dawned on me that Mel was on her way over to see me and I had given her Christmas present away! Mel can be very sensitive about comportment and I don't think she would have understood if I didn't have some sort of token waiting for her when she arrived.  
  
That meant that I had to go immediately to Daphne and --- and take back the gift I had just given her! I was mortified to say the least, but what choice did I have? It was one of the most difficult experiences I have ever had, but she was so sweet and gracious about it --- naturally.  
  
And those earrings were just the item to help sooth Mel's ruffled feathers. When I presented them to her, her eyes sparkled with delight and she whispered to me that her apology was one that couldn't be wrapped up with a ribbon and was something that had to be rendered in private.  
  
The time had finally come! Merry Christmas, indeed!  
  
She suggested we go back to her place and I'd be lying if I said that I wasn't as nervous as a goose in a duvet factory. A lot was riding on my --- performance, shall we say. But Mel was an ardent and thorough lover and I was --- overdue, both psychologically and physically, so we managed to "muddle" through our first time together quite nicely --- thank you!  
  
I think I can finally say that I actually "love" Mel. And I am sure she loves me. Being able to articulate that feels good. It puts some clarity into my life. After all the heartache and misery I went through with Maris I needed someone who can put their arms around me and tell me that I am the most important person in the world to them. Maris never did that. She couldn't do that - Maris never respected me. Mel tells me I am one of the most brilliant people she has ever met, appreciates my cleverness and is always saying that I can achieve great things. I need to hear that.  
  
Loving Mel also makes it easier to put Daphne behind me --- it doesn't hurt so much when I look at her now. I can actually breathe normally when I am in the same room as her. Sure, I still think of her occasionally --- or even a bit more than that, but the point is that I've made tremendous progress since meeting Mel. It's not been a simple task - six and a half years of obsessing isn't likely to disappear overnight. Sometimes --- sometimes when I am in close proximity to Daphne, I find myself spontaneously yearning to reach out and --- and touch her. Of course I have to resist these impulses --- and I do.  
  
It is funny though, I don't conjecture up any sexually laden, dramatic fantasies that are comparable to the kiss that we had after we danced the tango. I just usually picture something much more ordinary than that, almost trivial in magnitude really. Small actions like brushing a wayward strand of hair from her "doe" eyes, or patting her hand to emphasize a point of conversation, or --- or wanting to gently stroke her smooth, bare shoulders to drive away the sudden shiver of a chilly balcony breeze --- like I said, nothing monumental. And yet there they are, lurking about, ready to ambush me when I least expect it still.  
  
I am convinced however, that these urges are only residues of emotion, echoes of feelings that will fade as Mel and I grow deeper into our relationship. It will just take some more time for me to subdue them entirely.  
  
Time, and having Mel help me knit up the unraveled bits of my life --- that's what I require to be happy now.  
  
Adieu.  
  
Stay tuned for Part 13 (to be continued) 


	13. Chapt 13: The Deja Blues

Just One Look  
  
By Valma  
  
Part 13: The Deja Blues  
  
Daphne's Diary  
  
Dear Diary:  
  
What the bloody hell am I going to do now?  
  
I got bobbinsed yesterday and made a right mess of things. That's what drinking about seven Bloody Mary's will do to you!  
  
Of course it's really just an excuse - blaming the booze for my behaviour of late because I have managed to make a balls up of just about everything recently, even without drinking, haven't I?  
  
And it all centers around him --- Dr. Crane.  
  
I thought I could handle it. I thought I had got a grip on all those questions and qualms.  
  
I was wrong.  
  
After Christmas, things went smoothly for a while. New Years came and went and Donny and I had a lovely time with my Uncle Jackie in San Francisco. We stayed for about a week, visiting Chinatown and going up Coit Tower, taking the cable cars - you know, doing all those tourist things because Donny had never been to "Frisco" before.  
  
Only once did I think of Dr. Crane. It was when we went on a bus tour of the Sonoma Valley. Mainly it was just an excuse to get out of the city for the day, see the surrounding countryside and let someone do the driving while we got to drink samples along the way. Late in the afternoon one of the establishments we drove pass was the "Face of the Moon" winery. We didn't even stop in - it wasn't on the itinerary, so within a few minutes it was long past on the roadside, obscured in the glare of the bright sunlight on the bus window. Donny was droning on, reading the guidebook. My mind took the opportunity to travel effortlessly back to several years ago when Dr. Crane had offered to help me shop for a list of gourmet kitchen gadgets that his brother had instructed me to scour the city for ---  
  
We decided to break for lunch finally and stopped into a small, rather run- of-the-mill restaurant to refresh ourselves before striking out again to find the final item, a truffle slicer of all things. He was the one who noticed that one of the wines on the list was called "Visage de la Lune". He insisted that we order a glass of it - his treat, he said bubbling with his own kind of uniquely shy enthusiasm - and after only one quick sip he declared it to be "a memorable vintage, thoroughly enchanting and delightful in every way - just like its namesake". I laughed it off at the time and teased him about his flattery, but now I truly understood. It wasn't just idle chatter. He was presenting that little tribute just for me, honoring me with his words, it was a token of his affection --- he was giving me a cherished gift straight from his heart. One that he knew I would never probably acknowledge or even be aware of. That didn't matter, he wanted to do it all the same. He didn't really like that overpriced glass of mediocre table wine, any more than he liked the dried out chicken and overcooked veggies. But he did like just spending time with me - it wasn't what we were doing that counted, it was the fact that we were doing it together. He just wanted to be near me, to talk to me, to hear my laughter and watch me eat my food. And he wanted to see me smile and respond, in even the smallest way, to the attention that he was bestowing on me that sunny afternoon in Seattle so many years ago ---  
  
"Daphne, is something wrong sweetie?"  
  
Donny's voice trespassed into my memories.  
  
"Are you --- are you crying?"  
  
I didn't have an answer for him. I didn't have an answer for myself. I quickly brushed the tear from the corner of my eye.  
  
"Oh Donny, it's just a bit of dust, that's all. Don't worry. There - see? I'm all better now. So, what's the next winery we go to --- "  
  
And that was the last I thought of him for the rest of the trip.  
  
But it wasn't over - it was just beginning.  
  
A few weeks later, Dr. Crane asked me to help him prepare a meal for Mel. He seemed slightly reluctant at first, but tried to be as casual as possible - apologizing profoundly about intruding in on my time. He caught me off guard. I couldn't think of a plausible excuse why I shouldn't help him prepare "Blanquette de Veau" that afternoon, so I just said that I'd be glad to aid him in that task.  
  
It started out so well. We were having such fun, he was joshing me, being terribly witty and I was playfully ribbing him about how fussy he was in the kitchen. Then he started to "play act", as if he was a surgeon and I was the assisting nurse. There was a breezy attitude about him that I hadn't seen in him since the day that Donny and I met. I don't know why --- maybe he was just in his element in the kitchen; being tastefully creative and yet carrying out the precision needed to achieve the desired result. Perhaps it was just that he was happy ---finally happy that he had found someone for whom he could cook for --- someone who would truly appreciate his efforts --- Mel. Or possibly it was that we cracked open a bottle of wine to cook with and found that more of it made its way into our glasses than into the recipe. Whatever it was, his good mood was contagious and it made for a jolly afternoon. Just as we were finishing up though, he happened to burn himself on the handle of one of the copper pans we had used. I could tell he was suffering a bit more than he let on, putting on a brave "male" façade. He even cracked a mild joke about leaving a "protective layer of his skin" on the handle, but I could see a grimace on his face as I took his injured hand and began to spread the aloe cream on it.  
  
"Just give it a minute to absorb."  
  
I was just trying to be as gentle as possible as I applied the salve to his raw, blistering skin, when I suddenly realised that this was the first close physical contact I had had with him since I found out about his feelings for me. We were standing only inches apart. I could feel his breath fall on my wrists as he leaned back against the counter and let me administer first aid to him. I could smell his cologne - the spicy scent mixing with the odour of the medication. My fingers trailed across his warm hand, massaging the healing cream in. Even though I didn't look up, I knew those slate-blue eyes of his were watching me carefully, following my every movement. My mind drifted a bit as I felt the flesh and bone of those long, sensitive fingers. I could imagine those hands holding mine with a tenderness and a strength that was as alluring to me at that moment as any romantic gesture had ever been. I wondered what it would be like to have those talented "instruments" of his, those dexterous digits, play upon my body, like the piano keyboard that I had seen him skillfully traverse on countless rainy afternoons when he visited. I felt myself laboring to control an impulse to kiss that soft, supple hand, to hold it up to my face so that he could sense my pulse and know that the blood coursing through my veins could beat with a passion too.  
  
"Hey, what's up?"  
  
Mr. Crane might as well as have put an ice cube down the back of my shirt.  
  
Almost flinging aside the injured hand that I had not minutes ago so carefully cradled I blurted out some ridiculous gibberish and rushed out of the room in a flood of guilt and self-recrimination.  
  
I didn't even grasp that I had grabbed the egg timer with me, in a panic when I took flight until I slammed my bedroom door behind me and flung myself on the bed. I smashed the timer to the floor and buried my head in a pillow. What was I doing? I was practically a married woman, for God's sake! It was disgusting --- wasn't it? I was having erotic thoughts about a man that I had called "friend" for over six years!  
  
But I knew it was more than that --- it wasn't just the sensuousness of the touch of his hand --- it was more, much more. And that was what, in fact, scared me most of all. Part of me wanted to take a chair and block the door so that even if Dr. Crane tried, he couldn't come in to ask me to explain what had just happened. The other part of me wanted to open the door and call out his name - invite him in to explore the uncharted directions that would result from such a bold and decisive move.  
  
I waited for quite a while, listening intently for a gentle, polite knocking on the wooden frame of my door, but none came. After an hour, I quietly got up and made my way out into the living room.  
  
Mr. Crane was watching a ball game on the telly. Dr. Crane was nowhere in sight.  
  
"Donny called, Daph and said that he would be swinging by here to pick you up in about a half an hour."  
  
Funny, I hadn't even heard the telephone ring.  
  
"You two going out this evening?"  
  
"Umm, yes --- yes we are." I had completely forgotten. My voice was ragged and sounded on edge. I slipped into the kitchen and got a bottle of water to ease the dryness in my throat. All evidence of our little "cooking lesson" had been cleaned up and there wasn't a trace that he had even been in the apartment at all, let alone of what had actually transpired that afternoon. Maybe it hadn't really happened after all? Maybe I was imagining the whole --- I spotted the aloe cream jar tucked neatly into a corner of the counter. Yes, it really had taken place. I deposited the irrefutable proof back in the cupboard where it belonged, made a mental note that I had better replace the timer before Frasier discovered its absence and returned to the living room.  
  
"So, where you off to?"  
  
I felt like saying "Mind your own bloomin' business you old sod!" but I realized that it was really just polite conversation he was making, so I chose "Dinner and a show" instead.  
  
Mr. Crane just grunted and I gathered my purse and coat and sat on the couch waiting for Donny to arrive. I felt exhausted. I just couldn't handle all these feelings that had started to invade me ever since that fateful afternoon when I massaged Frasier and he had let the cat out of the bag. So I just pushed the chaos and doubts aside for now - I would examine them later. That's what I would do all right --- I'd look at my predicament later, when I just wasn't so tired.  
  
"Are you O.K., Daphne?"  
  
"Yes, I'm fine," I said simply and left it at that, but I knew I wasn't. And I think Mr. Crane knew I wasn't too. But if it is one thing I can count on, it is for Mr. Crane to not probe too deeply into my "intimate" affairs. That, thank goodness, is just his way.  
  
Unfortunately it isn't my way - especially if I have "had a few brews".  
  
Which brings me to my current dilemma. You see, "later" never came and my quandary wasn't solved at all - it just got bigger.  
  
Dr. Crane had been anxiously wanting to "present" Mel formally to the family, so they could get to know her better and his brother suggested a brunch get-together as a good way to break the ice.  
  
I had been nervous about this right from the start, to tell you the truth. So goosey in fact, that it had taken me about an hour and a half, and a whole Valium just to find the right ensemble to wear. I finally settled on my chic dark red Chinese silk skirt and a simple black form-fitting top. It was just sheer coincidence, I realized later, that that particular outfit accentuated my height around petite Mel. Didn't cross my mind earlier, though - I swear.  
  
Roz and I planned on serving Bloody Marys and a fritata, along with coffee and pastries from Le Cigaré Volant. You know - the usual brunch fare.  
  
Well, this little "get together" was anything but usual, let me tell you!  
  
Right from the moment that her majesty "Queen Mel" waltzed in she was lording it over everyone, making curt comments and insinuations - it took her all of about 10 minutes to alienate everyone in the room. The drinks were too strong, the food was too cheesy, the pastries were too fatty, the coffee was too bitter, the dog was too "doggy" - the list went on and on. Of course Dr. Crane couldn't see any of this. He was gushing like a schoolboy over every word she said. Giggling at her inane twittering about how she was an expert at spotting the physical faults in others. I had to have two drinks in quick succession just to keep from slapping her cow face after she said that most tall women often suffer from inferiority complexes!  
  
Finally we were all put out of our misery when Mel was beeped and had to leave on short notice. I didn't even know that plastic surgeons had "on call" emergencies. I suspect that she had arranged the whole thing when she slipped into the powder room - it was just another way for her to irritate and insult Frasier. You didn't need a crystal ball to see that she sensed that he was steamed about her manipulating his brother into running for the wine club presidency and stealing his thunder.  
  
That was such a cheap way to make Dr. Crane feel good about himself, when you think about it. It doesn't take much to push his rivalry buttons when it comes to his brother and I think she is smart enough to realize that eventually if she pressed too hard it would backfire and drive more a wedge between them. But then maybe that is what she hoped to accomplish - if Frasier and him weren't so close, he would rely more on her for support and eventually he would be totally dependant on just her for his emotional sustenance. She could have him completely within her power, to mold him any way she envisioned him --- just like that witch of a wife of his had done with him. Mel was just a kinder, gentler version of Maris. A velvet hammer instead of an iron one. In the end she will be just as destructive - there just won't be as many obvious bruises.  
  
Well, anyway, all hell broke loose after "Lady Macbeth" left.  
  
Dr. Crane made the mistake of asking everyone what they thought of Mel and I guess I was the culprit that got the ball rolling.  
  
"Oh, I don't like her at all! She's bossy and fussy and mean. She's all wrong for you!"  
  
Yeah, that's what too many Bloody Marys and being out of the room when Mr. Crane issued his stern warning about everyone keeping their mouths shut, can do for you all right!  
  
Of course the liquid courage that I had consumed allowed me the luxury of not really giving a tinker's damn at the time about how Dr. Crane, or anyone else for that matter, viewed my little critique of Mel Karnofsky that afternoon.  
  
It just snowballed from there and soon Dr. Crane had had his fill of all of us bad-mouthing his girlfriend and left in a huff, slamming the door behind him.  
  
Can't really blame him.  
  
It really didn't hit me until later, when the alcohol had worn off, how hurt he must have been. Our approval of her must have meant something to him or he never would have asked for it in the first place, so to hear such an onslaught of scorn about someone he cared about must have wounded him deeply.  
  
I don't take back my opinion of Mel - I do think she is all wrong for him, but I also think I would have worded it a bit more carefully if I had a second chance --- and I hadn't been quite so sozzled. I think we all would have been more discreet if we could have a "do over" --- well, everyone except Roz.  
  
And while we are on the topic of doing things differently I also have come to the conclusion that I have to start controlling myself a bit more. These bouts of wild imaginings that I have been having about Dr. Crane have to come to an end. It's quite obvious that he and Mel are an "item" now and --- and Donny and I will be married before the year is out, so there is something more than just a little wrong with my behavior as of late. All these daydreams and fantasies about Dr. Crane, about how it would feel to be in his arms and the touch of his lips on my body as we made --- well, it just has to stop! It's just not right! Donny has done nothing to deserve such shabby treatment from me and Dr. Crane hasn't encouraged me in any way.  
  
It's all me.  
  
I'm the one causing all the trouble - for myself and for Dr. Crane. What do I hope to accomplish with putting on a performance like I did today or when we cooked together? Or the unbridled thoughts of him I have at night, when I'm alone in my bed --- and once, just once mind you - once when Donny and I had finished making love. I admit, I thought --- what would it be like to lie next to "him" --- Niles? Yes, I call him Niles at times like that. I can so clearly see now that he is a man, not just good, old friendly Dr. Crane, but Niles --- a passionate man with shy, alluring sensitivities. And that's why I have to stop! By thinking as him as "Niles" in my own mind, I'm breaking down the barriers that should be between us. He has to remain Dr. Crane to me. If he becomes "Niles" I don't have a chance --- and what's worse, neither does Donny.  
  
And if I destroy what I have with Donny, I may end up with nothing - no Donny, no Niles and --- and no Dr. Crane.  
  
And that is truly scary.  
  
'Night.  
  
*  
  
*  
  
*  
  
*  
  
*  
  
*  
  
* My Journal Through Life - Niles Crane  
  
I forgave Daphne first.  
  
I couldn't help it, of course. Even though she only left one apology on my voice mail and Frasier left about a half a dozen.  
  
As soon as I heard her voice on the machine I knew I would acquiesce to her plea.  
  
"Dr. Crane, it's Daphne here. I am soooo sorry for what I said on that Sunday. There's no excuse for my behavior and I know I haven't got a right to expect you to forgive me, but I hope you will."  
  
I clicked off the machine and whispered, "You're forgiven." I could never stay truly angry with her for very long. Especially when I could hear the nervous quiver in her voice as she spoke. It sounded like she was about to cry.  
  
And then I realized that if I had forgiven her, then I had to pardon Frasier and Dad as well. It only made sense - I couldn't go over and speak to Daphne and ignore my own flesh and blood, could I?  
  
Roz was the last to receive my mental absolution as I sat listening to their recorded mea culpas. I know Frasier put her up to the phone call --- I could hear him in the background nudging her on. But I know she probably meant it - we're supposed to hate each other, but we don't. It's all an act really.  
  
What wasn't an act though, were the stinging indictments of the guest of honor that they all delivered after Frasier's little soiree for Mel a week ago Sunday.  
  
The things they said about Mel were --- very hurtful - inexcusable really.  
  
"Bossy."  
  
"Gigantic pain in the ass!"  
  
"Manipulative."  
  
"Demanding."  
  
"Pushy."  
  
"Mean."  
  
"She's Maris all over again."  
  
I think that's all of them --- oh, wait there's "Fussy," but that's not really an insult, although it was meant to be.  
  
To be fair, I did ask them to be candid and tell me what they honestly thought of her. So in a way, when one couches it in those terms, you haven't got a right to complain if the answer isn't the one you like. That being said, they might have found it to have been more evenhanded in their analysis and at least made a genuine effort to think of at least one positive remark to say.  
  
But what's done is done and I guess they'll just have to learn to tolerate Mel, or modify their attitudes once they get to know her better, because I'm not going to let their erroneous, petty opinions of a perfectly lovely woman spoil my relationship with her. At this point in my life all my emotional hopes are riding on Mel and I can't afford to abandon ship, so to speak.  
  
I just thank God that Mel isn't aware of their collective verdict of her. If she were ever to catch wind of it, I could easily foresee a situation like I had with Maris and Frasier had with Lilith - everyone tiptoeing around the unstated yet obvious atmosphere of antagonism. I know Maris just handled it by avoiding my family as much as possible. I don't think I could go through a repeat of that. I need my family and friends just as much as I need Mel.  
  
Even though Frasier has disappointed me with his latest assessment of Mel, he has been a great comfort to me recently - helping me sort through some confusing signals that I thought was getting from Daphne a while back.  
  
You see I solicited her assistance to cook a birthday dinner for Mel with me and everything was going very --- well, cordially and then I happened to clumsily burn my hand. In her naturally nurturing way, she quickly saw to it that I received the appropriate treatment, putting some medicated cream on the injury. But while she was rubbing my hand, she seemed to become totally distracted and lost in thought. It was as if she was mesmerized by --- by something. When Dad interrupted her, she nearly jumped on the countertop and then rushed out of the kitchen in a complete fluster. At first I have to admit I had a sudden rush of exhilaration - could she actually have feelings for me? Why else would she react with so much mortification when Dad had blundered in unannounced - could she have been thinking forbidden thoughts --- about me? I was tempted to go to her and inquire about what had just happened. It was the first time I ever had so much as the slightest indication that she might just --- just feel something genuine for me. But instead I rushed off to see Frasier at Nervosa to get his thoughts on the situation. And thank goodness I did. He quickly assured me I had totally misinterpreted her actions. He rightly reminded me that it could simply be that since Mel and I were growing closer I might be a bit reluctant about making a commitment to a woman again. After the pain I had suffered at the hands of Maris, I might very well be using this incident as an excuse to avoid the chance of risking further heartache if things didn't work out with Mel. On hearing this I knew he was right. To think - if I had confronted Daphne I would have appeared the perfect fool to her - and more than just a bit insulting. To suggest that she was entertaining ideas of lusting after me when in reality she was only a month or two away from the alter would have led to all sorts of unthinkable unpleasantness. Frasier very much saved me an untold amount of embarrassment by his wise counsel. But that's what brothers are for I guess.  
  
And that's why I am going to find that book on Nietzsche that I borrowed from Frasier at Christmas time and drive over to his place and return it as a gesture of a return to normalcy. It's time to move on. It will be awkward at first --- I've boycotted the Elliot Bay Towers and Nervosa for almost two weeks now to make my point, but I'm sure they will realize what is really going on and then everything will be back the way it was - well almost. It may take a bit more time after that, but things will come around eventually.  
  
I know them --- they'll come through for me in the end.  
  
I can depend on that, for sure.  
  
Adieu.  
  
P.S. Completely unrelated, yesterday Donny has asked me to help him organize a bridal shower for Daphne. When he said, "help" I think he meant that I have free rein to do as I see fit. As he put it, "What would I know about throwing that sort of thing?" He says that he figured that sort of thing is "right up my alley". I really don't know if I should be complimented or miffed at the implications of that statement, but I agreed immediately to arrange it, of course. I think it will help me prepare mentally for the looming wedding more easily. And I will need all the bolstering I can get for to handle that little upcoming event.  
  
Stay tuned for Part 14 (to be continued) 


	14. Chapt 14: Of Mice and Moons

Just One Look  
  
By Valma  
  
Part 14: Of Mice and Moons  
  
My Journey Through Life - Niles Crane  
  
"The best-laid schemes o' mice an' men  
  
Gang aft agley,  
  
An' lea'e us nought but grief an'pain,  
  
For promis'd joy!"  
  
Robert Burns was right.  
  
Just when you think you have everything planned and things will run smoothly, some new source of vexation and anguish invades your life - sometimes on several fronts.  
  
Let me elaborate.  
  
A few weeks back, when I decided to go along with Donny and get involved with Daphne's bridal shower, I thought it would be just a simple way of providing an opportunity for more of the personal closure that I felt needed before --- before "The Wedding". I even insisted that Donny receive all the credit for the party in Daphne's eyes. It didn't bother me at all that Donny would bask in her praise for being "perceptive" or "creative", even though he was almost too eager to shift all the planning and arrangements on me when I was solicited to "help" him out. I really didn't want to seek any additional attention from her. I was totally in favor of anonymity. My motivation for such an altruistic act was solely to buttress my conviction that I was fully capable of being just "a good friend" and accord her the proper social distance that any "married" lady friend of mine should be given.  
  
I ought to have "You're doing the right thing, Niles," tattooed on my chest but these sorts of small steps do help ---  
  
I always knew that withdrawing myself from Daphne would be no easy task. So much of my emotional center had been focused around her for so long that the transition to Mel was bound to have some rough spots for my psyche along the way. It had to be accomplished in stages rather than just in one sudden act of proselytization. This has nothing to do with Mel really. It's just that --- while seeing Daphne dating Donny was an arduous enough trial to overcome and witnessing his marriage proposal was even more devastating to me, their upcoming nuptials did seem like the last definitive leg in the "Triple Crown" of agony for me as far as Daphne was concerned. Even with Mel by my side, I knew that event would have "ordeal" written all over it, so it seemed only prudent that I have a number of strategies in place to help me keep moving forward with my life.  
  
But not everything turns out the way we plan it to, does it?  
  
For one thing, the bridal shower wasn't quite the laudable event that I envisioned it would be.  
  
It should have worked pretty much flawlessly --- I had assigned everyone different chores. Roz did her part, inviting all of Daphne's girlfriends and a few of her own, to the delight of my desperate brother. Frasier and Dad helped with arranging for the rented chairs and accoutrements. Even my beloved Mel got involved and planned the silly games --- and I orchestrated the caterer and feted the event at the Montana, concocting a covering ruse by telling Daphne that I would like to have her help me prepare "Sticky Toffee Pudding" on that particular Saturday night.  
  
When she arrived she looked so --- so beautiful. Stunning actually is a better word. Her maroon, form-fitting dress shimmered in the room's ambient light as I removed her coat, while her auburn hair delicately caressed her bare, creamy shoulders. She was glowing with an expectancy that is difficult to describe. I suspected that she had already guessed what we were up to, but she refused to confirm this hypothesis of mine and insisted that she had been completely deceived by our contrivance. It struck me that to see her so radiant was worth any residual wistfulness I might have still felt about our non-existent romantic relationship. Not that I sensed anything more than a fleeting gush of captivation, but it didn't last long enough to qualify as a genuine stirring - I assure you.  
  
That wouldn't have been proper now --- would it?  
  
As I said - I just wanted to do this for her strictly as a friend. It was supposed to be a nice time for all involved.  
  
And it would have been too, except for Donny's ineptitude, which was the catalyst that eventually not only demolished the entire evening, but generated a whole set of consequences, some of which still have not been dealt with completely.  
  
I gave Donny one chore to do - surprise Daphne with a visit from one of her siblings for her bridal shower. He could have picked almost "any" brother and it would have been satisfactory - but he had to pick Simon!  
  
Good Lord, Donny is her fiancé for heaven's sake! Doesn't he know the most rudimentary things about her? You'd think he'd know that she detests Simon, but nooooo - he made a total mess of that single assignment. He doesn't deserve a "treasure" like Daphne - plain and simple! But I feel that I digress, so let's just stick with the more immediate concern --- Simon.  
  
Ah, yes - Simon --- he ruined everything with his boorish manners! He was loud, crass and behaved slovenly. He smoked and flicked his filthy ashes everywhere except the ashtray. He made passes at all the females in attendance - including Mel just before he left! He put his feet up on the furniture. He guzzled an inappropriate amount of alcohol. He totally dominated what could have been a most splendid affair and dragged it into the gutter. He humiliated Daphne at every step - called her childish names, physically manhandled her in a rude, rough fashion, dredged up embarrassing topics of conversation and even managed to douse her in red wine, staining her beautiful dress during the course of the soirée.  
  
His cloddish behavior spread awkwardness over the entire evening like ripples from a rock making their way across a pond. Daphne was not only irritated with Simon's presence, but was exasperated with Donny as well. Any feelings of good will and happiness that I hoped would have flourished in her that night, vanished in the chaos that surrounded her brother from the moment he made his appearance. Frasier was upset too because he had agreed beforehand to provide accommodations for Daphne's visiting sibling and now that he had witnessed Simon in the flesh he regretted making that commitment and blamed Daphne for the inconvenience of it all. Even Mel was upset with me - I heard an earful from her after the guests left about "my choice of friends and acquaintances" and how we were "not to ever to associate with this group of reprobates and plebeians ever again once the wedding was over"!  
  
God - it was the stuff that nightmares are made!  
  
Which brings me to the second repercussion that ruinous time brought about --- I think the trauma of the whole shattering event has managed to produce one very troubling and totally unanticipated corollary for me.  
  
Ever since that night I've - I've been having dreams --- dreams about --- about Daphne.  
  
Three actually in the last two weeks.  
  
Oh, I've had a few other "Daphne inspired" dreams, but they happened a while back - before I met Mel - and while they were stimulating in their own right, they weren't of the same, ummm --- puissant, carnal vividness, shall we say.  
  
This is very difficult for me to write about. I could never mention anything of what I am about to divulge to anyone --- not even to Frasier. I suspect that he would just interpret it as a lack of resolve on my part to let Daphne go mentally and I just don't think I could take another one of his "When are you going to get over her" speeches at the moment.  
  
But they say that confession is good for the soul, so having no other recourse, I feel I must unburden myself here within the confines of these pages ---  
  
These most recent visualizations have been markedly intense and erotic --- and yes, I responded the way you would imagine any red-blooded, heterosexual male would - I found myself in a rather sticky, damp mess in the morning.  
  
I wish --- I truly wish --- I could control these things, but it seems I can't - human nature being what it is --- and all that. I just thank God Mel wasn't spending the night when this happened! How would I ever explain my lack of --- of self-mastery? She would be appalled.  
  
And so am I actually.  
  
It's utterly embarrassing, not --- not to mention more than a bit insulting to my sweet Mel. It's like a subconscious way of implying that our relationship is inadequate in some way. And that's not the case at all. I am thoroughly contented with Mel - in every way. I love her. I really do love her. I know I do ---I do!  
  
But nevertheless these chimeras persist.  
  
I want them to stop - I want to "make" them stop. And despite what Frasier or Dad or anyone else may think, it's not like I haven't set my emotions about Daphne aside. When I examine these dreams logically I know that they are probably just a manifestation of all the tensions that I have been feeling recently over Donny's blunder, Simon's invasion, the ignominy of the bridal party and the inescapability of the wedding itself. I am fully cognizant of the fact that there was never anything "real" between us --- and there certainly won't be now. Daphne is going to be married very soon, less than a couple of weeks away and I really have accepted this situation in every rational sense. I know she isn't going to stop the ceremony and tell Donny it was a big mistake and that she really loves "Dr. Crane" --- that just isn't going to happen. I've moved on in my life now, just as she has with hers. She's happy - she has Donny; I'm happy - I have Mel. I've accepted that - I really have.  
  
I only find myself actually "thinking" about Daphne sporadically nowadays -- - like when I am alone, or in the middle of a long session, or listening to my recording of "Vissi d'Arte", or once when I heard the haunting refrain of "Heart and Soul" coming from the radio on my way home, or --- well, the point is that it's times like these that she just pops into my head like an unexpected guest and --- and I --- I always manage to make her "depart" eventually with no real harm done.  
  
If only I could convince my subconscious what my conscious self knows so well.  
  
I want to be as devoted to Mel in my dreams as I am in my waking hours. And I am - devoted, to Mel, that is --- it's just that these latest images are --- well, ill timed at best and very disconcerting in their potency.  
  
It always starts out innocently enough, but all too rapidly mutates into something much more erogenous in nature. It follows the identical pattern every time. Daphne appears at my door. She seems anxious --- like something is preying on her mind. I invite her in and she sits nervously down on the fainting couch. Her hands are fidgeting; she won't look me in the eye. To break the tension that seems to have developed I politely offer her a cup of tea. She thanks me and then something on the shelves behind me attracts her attention.  
  
Her mouth falls open and she visibly blanches, the rosy tint draining from her cheeks. She is unmistakably dumbfounded by what she sees. I am about to inquire as to what has caught her eye, when, at that very moment, invariably she always accidentally spills some of the drink on her dress, distracting me from asking the source of her speechless perplexity. She leaps up suddenly and hurries to the kitchen to wash it out. I turn and look towards the shelf and see nothing that would invite such amazement - nothing extraordinary or worthy of such an extreme reaction, just some rather mundane brickbat and small statuary spaced out intermittently, holding up the volumes of books.  
  
Without fail, within a short while I get an impulse to see if I can be of assistance and follow after her. I do this in spite of an intuitive sense that there is a definite potential for calamity lurking behind that door. But my compulsion to peek in on her has to be satisfied - so my fate is sealed. I have an irrepressible sensation of apprehension mixed with anticipation as I head towards that door --- but does that stop me? Oh nooooo, not one little bit!  
  
When I open it, there she is - shockingly semi-nude in her bra and panties, her dress in her hands soaping the soiled garment in the sink. Instead of covering my eyes and retreating, I just stand there - gawking --- yielding to the titillation of the view in front of me. Then I instinctively begin to pant --- inconspicuously at first, but then more blatantly, my pulse quickening while the throbbing in my groin overruns my entire body. Even though I start to feel a flood of opprobrium and I know I should take flight, I can't. The spectacle of her nakedness is too much of a temptation. It's as if I had wandered upon a scene drawn from Botticelli's very own Birth of Venus; the goddess herself is riding to shore on a half- shell - would I avert my eyes at such a masterpiece? To do so would surely be an affront to the divine maestro who created such a model of perfection. I don't even risk a blink - I truly believe that any movement at all will break the spell and I can't bear for that to happen. I am a willing prisoner of my torrid lusts. Then, just when I feel like I am about to cry out in complete frustration at my compelled immobility --- she glances up at me.  
  
At first, I fear she will be as horrified as I am at my voyeurism, thinking that my libertine conduct is as abhorrent and crude as I know it is. But she only smiles, with that luscious, innocent and yet knowing look of hers and chuckles softly, asking me if I am going to be a gentleman and help her or just stand there being useless. That simple jocular comment releases an eruption of pulsating energy in me. In an impetuous act of unbridled ardency I vault across the room in what seems like one bound and crush her in my arms. I drape her in kisses and she responds eagerly to my hungry advances, moaning my name as she holds me tightly, like someone clinging to the last lifeboat. I feel my orgasmic cravings for her pounding through me with a cadence of inestimable pleasure. We embark on making fiery, passionate love - right there on my kitchen floor of all places and then --- and then I --- I awaken --- depleted, flaccid and --- and completely mortified at my dishonorable behavior.  
  
Oh, God! I know it isn't real but still --- it should be Mel who I am relishing in my dreams now, not Daphne!  
  
Even now my hands are shaking as I write these declarations of fictitious unfaithfulness. I know that I would never really be so untrue to Mel, but I have taken two showers this morning and I still can't scour the grime of my guilt away.  
  
Adding to my feelings of degradation and shame is the fact that Mel has begun asking me, on a fairly regular basis, if I would consider the two of us living together. Well, it's more of a plea than an inquiry actually and sometimes --- sometimes it even borders on an ultimatum. There is always a determined sound of urgency in her voice when she brings the topic up. It's probably just my conscience taking over, but I wonder if Mel suspects that I have been having these --- these bouts of illusory promiscuity? It's almost as if she's seeking concrete verification that I won't abandon her - which I won't --- but, on the other hand, I don't know if I am quite ready yet for that rather large step in my life.  
  
I don't seem to be able to reason with her - she said the other night it was simply a matter of "if you love me you would do this". I wish I could get her to appreciate that it is not just so black and white with me, but I don't even understand why myself that I am so reluctant, so how can I explain it to her.  
  
Why can't I just go ahead and set up house with Mel?  
  
I always said that I didn't really enjoy living alone. We know each other well enough now I think. Our personalities mesh. I won't find anyone better for me --- not at least anyone who loves me more than Mel does.  
  
I feel like I have to make this up to Mel one way or another. It's as if I am letting her down somehow --- not being the perfect "boyfriend" that she deserves. And I can't afford to fail at this relationship, not after what happened to me with Maris and --- and with Daphne, although she was never aware of any of my heartache. I want to show Mel that I really am totally committed to her and that I don't harbor any feelings for --- for anyone else, despite these silly nocturnal fantasies.  
  
In reality of course I didn't pursue Daphne into the kitchen as she proceeded to get cleaned up. She was immediately surrounded by a gaggle of her girlfriends, and Donny ushered Simon home to Frasier's apartment. Nothing remotely untoward happened between us. All that I did was supply my Chinese silk robe for her to put on and a satchel to put her blotched dress in --- she returned both items within the next couple of days.  
  
When she did, we talked a bit - she seemed fretful and distracted. At first she refused to even come in, but with a tad of coaxing she ultimately was convinced to sit on the couch, insisting all the while on keeping her coat wrapped tightly about her and apologizing multiple times for intruding. Needless to say, I didn't dare contemplate offering her anything to drink - that just seemed too much like tempting fate for my comfort.  
  
Soon enough the source of her present state of anxiety was revealed. My poor darling Daphne! Apparently Simon was still causing havoc in her life and was the reason that she exploded in a fit of temper a few days after the party, starting a chain of events that resulted in a muti-vehicle accident. I commiserated with her on the misery he had wrought on her life recently and how lucky it was that no one was hurt in the ensuing collisions. Minor fender bender stuff actually, but I supplied her with the name of a good lawyer and she got off light with some standard court ordered anger management therapy sessions that begin tomorrow.  
  
As for Mel, she and I are planning a weekend trip to her friend's cottage as a way of celebrating our six-month anniversary of being together. I think it will do us both a lot of good. She will have a chance to relax and be reassured that I do love her, in spite of her insecurities and fears. I will be able to put the distractions of Simon and Donny and the upcoming wedding behind me and just focus on Mel. Maybe that's all I need to overcome my tentative feelings about moving in with her --- I hope so, for both our sakes.  
  
And as for the dream --- I've got to find a way of coming to terms with it. I can't afford for it to interfere with my life - for the good of my own mental health, my relationship with Mel --- or my friendship with Daphne.  
  
Adieu.  
  
*  
  
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Daphne's Diary  
  
Dear Diary:  
  
"The thing we long for, that we are  
  
For one transcendent moment."  
  
I think I saw that on a greeting card once. It had a picture of a tranquil sunset and two people walking along a beach together, hand in hand. Even though I had no one to give it to, I bought it all the same - put it in a drawer and took it out and looked at it whenever I got to feeling blue.  
  
It somehow gave me a sensation of sadness and elation at the same time. There was a resplendent happiness in that phrase - it spoke of the joy that can be felt when you finally get what you pine after, but it also was clearly saying that this splendid experience, by the very nature of longing, was only temporary - just "one" moment in time --- not an eternity and would always leave us desiring more.  
  
That's what I feel when I think of --- him.  
  
For one brief shining moment I held my breath with anticipation, my arm tingling with the after effects of his touch, listening to my heart beating wildly, trembling, excited by the expectation that the time for the truth had finally arrived --- a declaration that I had been both fearful of, and yet yearning for, for some time. An admission that I was too frightened of to even put a name to for many months, but which Dr. McCaskill had recognized in an instant. This was something that I could no longer deny -  
  
I think --- I love him.  
  
There - I said it.  
  
I think I am falling in love with Niles Crane.  
  
But having said it doesn't change a thing really.  
  
For I am someone who is about to marry Donny Douglas - the wedding is next week for crying out loud - and he --- he is someone who thinks that although I have "warm eyes that are full of life", they aren't enough to compete with the likes of a pushy plastic surgeon who realized a good thing when she saw it. Not --- not like me. I --- I ignored him, blindly disregarded every signal he sent my way, even when he all but cut open his heart and poured his emotions over me.  
  
What a fool I was - what a fool I am ---  
  
God, how I wish I could turn back the hands of time and wipe that bridal shower from the collected pages of recent history!  
  
But in doing so, would anything important actually be altered?  
  
Would he have suddenly come clean and admitted that he only concocted the ruse of wanting me to teach him how to prepare "Sticky Toffee Pudding" so that he could privately confess that his once passionate feelings for me had miraculously come to life again and that he needed me as much as I now needed him?  
  
Would he have given up his talented, cultured, sophisticated girlfriend for the likes of me - me, who is someone whose skills seem to run the gamut from knowing the best way to unplug a toilet, to being an expert on the different methods of massaging a crabby old man's ass?  
  
Would it have frozen that "one transcendent moment" so that I could live forever in the eager expectancy that his affections were about to be revealed?  
  
The answer to all of these questions is sadly - no.  
  
And so the reality that I am left with is --- is that the party happened - Mel controlled him, and everyone else, like a domineering circus master with a whistle stuck in her thoat, Donny showed me why truly sensitive men don't become lawyers and Simon reminded me of one of the main reasons why I left Manchester in the first place.  
  
Mr. and Mrs. Douglas have the impression that their son is marrying a raving, alcoholic lunatic. Donny can't seem to figure out why "Daph's" in such a "Brit snit" about "his one - oops, make that two little surprises that backfired". Frasier thinks that I have blindsided him and caused him to lose another "perfect" woman yet again. And Roz is pissed at me for getting her hopes up that Simon was the "accented" answer to her dreams, but finding out that he really is just another aging soccer hooligan "lech" who doesn't have two "bob" to his name.  
  
The only person who isn't fuming at me is Martin - he seems just tickled pink that he has found a "buddy" in my loutish brother! Which, by the way, also gives Frasier another reason to grind his teeth when my name is mentioned.  
  
And I guess there is another person who isn't upset with me --- but then he wouldn't be, would he?  
  
He, of course is supportive, comforting, sympathetic and helpful - as he has always been.  
  
He lent me his robe when Simon destroyed my dress, so I could get home with at least some dignity.  
  
He let me vent about the disastrous meeting with Donny's parents, never saying a critical word about any of my antics.  
  
He recommended a lawyer friend of his to represent me when the court hearing came up, intuitively sensing that I didn't want to have Donny, or his family, anywhere near me for that particular occasion.  
  
Then, when I went to pay the lawyer's fee the receptionist informed me that it had "been all taken care of already."  
  
And --- and I saw him there too, there in the back row of the court house, waiting to see if everything turned out all right, even though he slipped quietly out just after the judge decided my fate.  
  
Oh - if only I could have that "one transcendent moment" with him and --- and make it last a lifetime!  
  
But I can't, can I --- it's too late now!  
  
I keep telling myself that Donny isn't such a bad fellow - and he isn't. He's kind and gentle and I was perfectly happy with him --- once. But that was before --- before I found out about the best kept secret in Seattle. That was before thoughts about a certain pyschiatrist invaded my every waking moment and turned my life upside down. That was before I felt the touch of his fingers --- and sat waiting, waiting for that touch again --- the touch that never came.  
  
So I am going to marry Donny and, if I don't go insane first, I probably will be very happy eventually. I will keep on telling myself that I am doing "the right thing" - that I can't just hurt and disrupt the lives of others, that I have to play by the rules and that things will work out in the end. But I am still going to keep that greeting card - just like I will always keep that "one transcendent moment" of Niles in my heart.  
  
Good night.  
  
Stay tuned for Part 15 (to be continued) 


	15. Chapt 15: Love Among the Ruins

Just One Look  
  
By Valma  
  
Part 15: Love Among the Ruins  
  
My Journey Through Life - Niles Crane  
  
It's 6:24 in the morning and the sun is just peaking over the mountaintops. Slender rapiers of light rend the misty fabric of the clouds against a canopy of muted ochre, rufous and magenta hues.  
  
I'm sitting on the front porch of a rustic little cottage nestled in the wilds of Canada about twenty miles over the B.C. / Washington state border.  
  
Sunshine and warm temperatures are predicted to continue throughout the rest of the weekend, with just a slight chance of evening showers tomorrow.  
  
The pleasant fragrances of the flowers in their neatly tended window boxes are carried on a gentle breeze that teases the chimes hanging from the rafters.  
  
I can hear the birds beginning their sunrise anthems; their sweet melodies floating across the distance that divides us and washing over me like an outdoor opus.  
  
For the first time in weeks I am at peace with the world and myself.  
  
I feel like I can finally breathe again, whereas before I had been laboring under the weight of a mounting pressure that threatened to suffocate me with each passing day. But order has finally been restored; the chaos that has dominated my mind has been quelled - now I can rest easy.  
  
And still sleeping in the bed, swaddled in the soft, pastel-colored cotton sheets, not fifteen feet away, is --- Mel, my darling Mel.  
  
The gentle, regular wheezing of her breath tells me that she won't be ready to rise for at least another hour. Well, one hour and six minutes to be exact. Mel always gets up at 7:30 - precisely. Today will be no different, despite what happened last night ---  
  
You see --- yesterday Mel and I were married.  
  
Yes, it was a "spur of the moment" type of thing - but it was the "right" thing to do --- for both of us.  
  
We equally needed this.  
  
For Mel it demonstrated to her, in the most unambiguous way possible, that I am committed to her. I've passed the final and toughest test of strength for our relationship. It means a lot to her. Being married again helps remove the embittered stigma that has clouded her life ever since her previous husband Barry absconded with "that cheap floozy of a filing clerk, Sandi".  
  
For me - I finally feel cosseted in the safe confines of matrimony once again. It's where I belong. I function much better within those boundaries - especially now, at this particular juncture of my life. No one can accuse me of hanging onto the past now. Mel is my future - Daphne --- Daphne is behind me. Dad, Frasier --- everyone will have to acknowledge that fact from this point on.  
  
Strangely enough it was Frasier who was the spark that ignited this momentous turn of events. I happened to mention to him that Mel had been pushing for us to move in together lately and that I was a bit wary about that prospect, but couldn't really pin down the source of my hesitation.  
  
To Frasier's credit, even though he isn't exactly a Mel aficionado, he suggested that if she made me happy then I shouldn't deny myself the opportunity to strengthen our bond.  
  
"Life isn't to be taken in baby steps," he said pithily.  
  
He reaffirmed my suspicion that my overly guarded reaction to forming a more permanent type of relationship with Mel could be rooted in the marital persecution that I had endured during my years of bondage with Maris and the ensuing humiliation that I was put through with the subsequent divorce.  
  
With his words ringing in my ears for inspiration I set out with Mel for our rejuvenating celebratory weekend in the mountains determined to conquer my misgivings and at least address the issue in an open and honest manner.  
  
Mel was in an upbeat mood. She had been planning this little excursion for a while and was bubbling with excitement as she reviewed our detailed itinerary on the drive north in the car.  
  
I loved seeing her in a good frame of mind. Whenever she was thus inclined I always could be assured of reaping some very enticing "bedside" benefits. Not that Mel would ever dare to consider indulging in the bizarre battery- aided, studded leather-inspired carnal appetites that Maris had a penchant for on the rare occasions that she felt like being intimate - God help me, no! But thankfully one pleasurable residual of my short liaison with Kitt was an "education" in sexual spontaneity that couldn't be found in books - at least not the books that I usually read, and I was an eager student after the years of warped abuse I had accepted as the norm at the hands of Maris. When Mel was in "vacation mode" she was openly receptive to a more playful, less of a "de rigueur" approach to lovemaking than she was accustomed to, and one that I tried to enthusiastically encourage, both selfishly for my sake and for her enjoyment as well. It certainly made me look forward to any upcoming holidays!  
  
After we stowed our luggage in the cabin, we made our way to the main lodge of the Hidden Valley Resort where Mel had naturally already pre-arranged our dinner, including the chocolate soufflés for dessert in remembrance of our first date. She always thinks of everything!  
  
It was during the meal that the topic of moving in together finally came up.  
  
"Niles, I think you know that we have to talk about --- "us"," she began.  
  
"Mel, I'm glad you mentioned this," I said taking a large gulp of wine to steady my nerves. "I know it's important to you and -"  
  
"Not just important, Niles," she insisted. "I really feel that it is crucial at this stage of our relationship. It will allow us to judge whether we are really meant to be a couple. You want us to be a couple, don't you, darling?"  
  
"Of course, Mel. I don't think I could have survived --- my divorce from Maris and all the stress of --- whatnot --- without your support and encouragement. You know how --- how much I need you."  
  
"You and I could do such great things together, Niles. You are so talented and intelligent. You have such capabilities - I want so --- so much for you to see all your potential realized. Maris was a fool. People like her have no sense of vision - they underestimate you because --- because you underestimate yourself. But I --- I believe in you Niles."  
  
Her eyes shone with an admiration that caused me to blush. But deep inside me there was a fire of pride and pleasure burning.  
  
"No one ever said such words to me, except you Mel and --- and my mother. I --- I don't ever want to d-disappoint you."  
  
I reached out and grasped her hand. Her fingers were warm against my flesh.  
  
"Niles," she whispered as she leaned in across the table. "You could never disappoint me, unless you betrayed me and the nearer you are to me the more I know that just isn't going to happen. But you have to trust me Niles --- really trust me with all your heart."  
  
She stretched her arm out and touched my pounding chest. My mouth fell open and a singular gasp escaped from my lips. I thought my heart was going to leap clean out of its cavity and into her awaiting hands!  
  
"Just say what you feel, Niles," she murmured. "I'll never let go of you. You're safe with me."  
  
Then it suddenly all became abundantly clear - this was the threshold that I had to cross - my opportunity for a new beginning, an absolutely clean start --- with someone who had total faith in me. It was a wholly new experience for me. How --- how could I show her I was worthy of such devotion and loyalty?  
  
"Marry me Mel."  
  
Mel's eyes narrowed until they were just tiny slits. She looked like she was trying to read the fine print on a contract. Panic swept through me like a tornado in a glass factory. Had I misread her? No - no, I couldn't have - she had to accept my proposal! She must want this as much as I did, right? This was the solution to all my problems. It had been staring me in the face all this time and I was just too preoccupied by --- by other things to realize it.  
  
But it was time to stop taking those "baby steps" like I had done all my life. Where had that got me? Prudently listening to Maris' insistence that it was "time to get married now", just resulted in many wasted years of misery. Waiting cautiously for the "right" time to tell Daphne how much I adored her, lead to her to a trip to the altar with Donny and never finding out about my feelings for her.  
  
What was there left to lose now?  
  
Stop going for the "cautious" and conservative path - do something inspired, damn it!  
  
"Marry me tonight," I blurted out. "I mean it! It can be done, right here, right now --- all we need is a justice of the peace --- there's no waiting period in British Columbia and we don't even need a blood test."  
  
The words came cascading from me in a rush, as if a lexicological flood could wash away any remaining doubts.  
  
"We love each other - we know we do --- and --- and if we were willing to live together, why not just move to the next step and make it more formal?  
  
"Why not, indeed," she said, her eyes widening as she spoke. "It only makes sense - doesn't it?"  
  
She reached up and stroked my cheek.  
  
"You are the most precious man I have ever known. I'd be crazy to ever let you get away."  
  
I felt omnipotent, invincible, like a real "dragon-slayer" - basking in the luxury of her adulation.  
  
"Well, if you were 'crazy'," I cleverly quipped. "Having a psychiatrist for a husband could help."  
  
Mel giggled with amusement and signaled the waitress.  
  
"Could we have a phone book, please?"  
  
And the rest of the evening was a whirlwind of activity. Mel must have gone through all the ties I brought before she decided on the right one for me. By sheer coincidence she had packed a lovely dinner ring that made a fine substitute for a wedding band. I tell you - even in the face of fortuitous events, she still seems prepared! What a remarkable woman! We went with the standard ceremony - "Why risk making a mistake on such short notice," was how Mel looked at it, commandeered a couple of witnesses and I even managed to find a street vendor who sold me all his flowers for the bride's bouquet. It was all so exciting and impetuous!  
  
When we finally got back to the cottage, aptly named "Love Nest" by the way, we were husband and wife and giddy with a blissfulness that I didn't ever want to end.  
  
I made love to Mel that night like a master violinist playing upon a Stradivarius - and she --- she was a "willing" instrument, much to my delight. I actually felt like crying with joy when we had finished, but wisely opted to just draw her close to me and hold her body next to mine until we both fell fast asleep.  
  
The pieces of my life were finally falling into the right places for once. I wasn't afraid of anything any more - not of what will likely be Roz's inevitable sardonic comments about Mel being the "Bride from Hell", not about telling Dad or Frasier about my "rash act", not even about watching Daphne glide down the aisle and become Donny's lawfully wedded wife now. With Mel's help I have built a strong fortification around my heart and am ready to show everyone that I am impervious to any malingering heartaches.  
  
This is the new "Niles Crane" and I have a feeling that from this day forward my life will never be the same.  
  
Adieu.  
  
P.S. The only thing I am truly concerned about is how Daphne will view our little weekend "surprise." Will she see it as an ill-timed prima donna act that might, albeit unintentionally, draw attention away from her big day? I would hate to be the source of any upset to Daphne, so I am determined not to tell anyone except Frasier and Dad about what Mel and I have done until after Donny and Daphne have been wed.  
  
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Daphne's Diary  
  
Dear Diary:  
  
I've made a couple of significant decisions tonight.  
  
First off - I'm done being in a turmoil about Niles Crane! No more tears.  
  
Secondly, from now on, no more "Niles" - it's strictly "Dr. Crane" from here on in whenever I think about him. He's a good friend and the brother of my employer --- a complete gentleman, kind, caring and someone I think the world of, but that's as far as it goes.  
  
But most importantly, for right now, no more crying!  
  
I've really got nothing to weep about - have I?  
  
In fact, if you look at it, I really am quite a lucky gal.  
  
There I was --- about to make the biggest mistake of my life and then - BOOM! At the last minute the ever so forthright Mel stopped me dead in my tracks.  
  
"We got married."  
  
She was holding his hand while she said it.  
  
One short sentence - three little words. Reality hit me square in the face. It was all over so quickly --- like a knife to the heart.  
  
All my delusions were shattered with that one statement. That's what they were, weren't they --- delusions?  
  
Just a collection of fantasies that I had made up and let grow ever since that fateful day when I gave Frasier that backrub. Fantasies --- like --- like he could really love me still.  
  
Obviously not - or he would never have run off and got hitched this past weekend.  
  
Hallucinations --- right? Like that he was going to be overwhelmed by the little "heart-to-heart" that Frasier suggested have with him, and that he would sweep me into his arms and we would live happily ever after. Again, just a figment of my imagination - nothing more!  
  
What was more likely to have happened, was that I would have utterly alienated Dr. Crane, embarrassed myself and destroyed my relationship with Donny.  
  
That would have been a cause for tears!  
  
But that didn't happen.  
  
See? That's how fortunate I am!  
  
I found out about their marriage before I opened my big mouth and made a confession that would have gone over like the proverbial lead balloon.  
  
Instead I offered them the most sincere congratulations I could muster, begged off his insistence that I stay for a champagne toast, graciously left the room with a smile on my face and proceeded to bawl my eyes out in the lift in front of Mrs. Richman.  
  
It was like there was no "off" valve to my tears - at least none that I could find at that moment.  
  
By the time I got to Donny's my eyes the color of cherries, so of course he wanted to know what was wrong. Even though he isn't the most observant bloke on the face of the planet he's no fool either. He could tell something was up.  
  
I had a whole collection of semi-plausible excuses - the caterer wanted fifty dollars more to cover the cost of the after dinner mints, my Auntie "Shirl" couldn't make it over because of her phlebitis, Annie had finally gone and got herself pregnant and now her bridesmaid dress didn't fit - I just picked one.  
  
What could I do? I couldn't tell him the truth, could I? It was a no win situation.  
  
There was just this big emptiness inside of me that felt like --- like when you have had too much to drink and the next morning you have the dry heaves. There is nothing left, but you still go through all the motions until your stomach is in a complete knot and your throat is aching and your head pounding to beat the band. It was like that - but only worse. I had got drunk on this illusion that I called "Niles" these past few months, and now I was suffering the consequences of that binge.  
  
Maybe that's it --- maybe all this crying was just a "Niles hangover".  
  
Mel's little announcement about their secret ceremony was the "finger down the throat" for me, an unpleasant but necessary start on the path to recovery. And these tears were my way of purging him from my system. Not an easy cure, that's for sure.  
  
Of course it would take time. You don't come off a "bender" like that in an instant, you know. Every time I closed my eyes all I could see was his earnest face, his strong, sharply defined jaw with that dimple of a cleft in his chin and those large, cerulean blue eyes that seemed to be unfathomable in their depth -  
  
"Daph, is there something wrong with your salad?"  
  
I looked over at Donny with a start.  
  
"What --- no, no nothing's wrong. It's delicious --- really."  
  
"Well, you haven't touched it in a half an hour. Is there something else bugging you? Are you still thinking about that extra fifty bucks we have to spring for the caterer? That's nothing, Daph. Really sweetie pie."  
  
I smiled at his feeble attempt to cheer me up. He just didn't understand -- - how could he?  
  
"Thanks Donny. I guess it's just pre-wedding jitters, that's all."  
  
I paused and then took a gulp of air, as I poked at the limp leaves of lettuce.  
  
"Dr. Crane and Mel Karnofsky got married yesterday."  
  
I didn't look up.  
  
I tried to make it sound like a mindless piece of gossip, but my words seemed to have the same gloomy tone that Frasier had used when he announced that Morrie the doorman had died.  
  
Donny set down his fork and raised his eyebrows.  
  
"Really? Wow! That's surprising."  
  
"Yeah," I chimed in. "That's what I thought. They don't really seem suited for each other. He's so --- so quiet and thoughtful and she --- well, she's cold and can be pretty rude some -"  
  
"You think so?" Donny interrupted. "I thought they make a great pair. All I meant was that it's so soon after his divorce. That's all."  
  
"Well, I could be wrong about her," I said quickly. "I guess I don't know her all that well. But --- you're right it is fairly sudden. Right before ours --- and all."  
  
"How's that make you feel?"  
  
What the bloody hell did he mean by that? What was he suggesting?  
  
"Feel? Why should I "feel" anything about the two of them getting married?"  
  
I found myself practically shouting at him without even realizing it until the words were already out of my mouth. The couple at the next table glanced in our direction.  
  
"Take it easy, Daph," Donny said with a concerned look on his face. "Boy, these wedding pressures have really got you rattled. I just wanted to know if it was going to interfere with any of our plans - nothing more."  
  
"Oh, Donny! I'm so sorry!" I blubbered. "You're right - the stress of planning the wedding and making sure that everything is perfect is --- is just driving me barmy, I guess. Do you forgive me? Please?"  
  
I was crying again, almost as hard as I was this afternoon in the elevator when I laid my head on Mrs. Richman's ample bosom.  
  
Donny patted my hand reassuringly.  
  
"Course Daph - I understand. By this time Saturday, will all have come together wonderfully and we will be on our honeymoon. All your worries will be over and you can relax and enjoy yourself!"  
  
I dried my eyes and sniffled a "Thank you." But there were still a couple of items to look after between then and now, though.  
  
For one thing I absolutely had to get in touch with Dr. Crane --- Frasier, that is, as soon as possible and explain to him that all my earlier hysterics had been nothing more than just a nervous reaction to the strain of organizing such a large undertaking like the wedding. I could tell by the look on Frasier's face as I left the apartment that he was thoroughly upset by the news of the elopement and just as concerned as how I was going to handle it. That was completely understandable, since only a day or so before I had been sobbing uncontrollably about dealing with the situation. And I know him well enough to suspect that he just might say something to his brother, even though I have asked him not to, if he thinks he can put things right.  
  
But that would be a terrible mistake.  
  
I don't need to "bear my soul" to Niles --- I mean, Dr. Crane any more. There isn't any call to ask him how he feels about me or whether he still is "crazy" about me.  
  
Whatever he felt for me in the past, or whatever I thought I felt for him recently, it is all over and done with. He is a married man now and I --- I am not a home wrecker!  
  
Donny and I are going to get married and the only tears that I will be crying from now on will be tears of joy as they throw the rice and Mr. and Mrs. D. R. Douglas start out on their new life together.  
  
I love Donny. Donny loves me.  
  
And Dr. Crane, as dear a friend as he is, isn't in love with me, so --- I can't be in love with him.  
  
It's as simple as that.  
  
No more tears --- no more fantasizing --- no more "Niles".  
  
And that is the way it is going to be.  
  
It's for the best.  
  
Goodnight Diary.  
  
Stay tuned for Part 16 (to be continued) 


	16. Chapt 16: The View From the Balcony Seat...

Just One Look 

By Valma 

Part 16: The View From the Balcony Seats

My Journey Through Life – Niles Crane

The world goes whispering to its own,  
"This anguish pierces to the bone;"  
And tender friends go sighing round,  
"What love can ever cure this wound?"  
My days go on, my days go on.  
- Elizabeth Barrett Browning

It started with a straightforward comment and invitation to dance – it ended with a glorious kiss and decree that has condemned me to dwell in the depths of despair. 

Now --- now I will have to salvage a reason from somewhere within my wretchedness to go on living knowing that I came so close to true happiness and had it slip away. I felt my Aphrodite embowered in my arms for one ephemeral moment, listened to her confirm her affections for me, kissed pure ecstasy deep enough to taste her in my soul and then --- then had all these delights cruelly torn from me like Icarus' wings as he plunged towards his watery doom.

Who could have predicted since that fateful day when I turned and said, "You're Daphne?" that my life would have been so intertwined with hers? With just one look – one seemingly insignificant look and a casual "Hello", from that point on, my very emotional existence became increasingly dependant over the years on every word she uttered ---

Of course, disrupting Daphne's wedding and casting Mel, my bride of three days, aside was the absolute last thing on my mind as I sat down beside the future Mrs. Donny Douglas at the Wayside Inn bar after the rehearsal dinner. I had every reason to believe that my life had finally settled into a state of solace and satisfaction. Mel was someone with whom I was convinced that I could find contentment and serenity. I thought everything was under control, that any remaining feelings for Daphne had been duly subjugated and I ready to play the role of "just a good friend". 

I couldn't have been more wrong.

When Mel and Donny went off to dance, Daphne and I were left alone at the bar. I inhaled a hint of cherry blossoms as it wafted towards me. She looked --- divine, adorned in a shimmering blue dress that truly did justice to her statuesque figure, her hair cascading over her shoulders, her bare back --- 

A short, sharp intake of breath gave me a chance to clear my thoughts and reminded me of the purpose of this little gathering of family and friends.

"Well, you certainly picked the perfect spot for your wedding."

She acknowledged my compliment but soon a slightly uneasy silence fell over us.

The music of the Gershwins wove its way towards us --- "No, they can't take that away from me --- "

"I love this song."

There seemed to be a disconsolate tinge to her voice. Was it just nerves? Perhaps she just felt left out of the fun on the dance floor? I quickly jumped to her rescue and offered to be her partner. Before Iong we had maneuvered our way out amongst the couples and were swaying in each other's arms. A sensation of nostalgia seized me. I felt a reflexive lump form in my throat --- 

The strains of the violins, a flash of a dazzling red ball gown, the passionate steps of the tango, a kiss that meant so much and yet so little ---

"Ah --- it's been a while since we danced together." 

Yes, it has," she softly replied.

Again I thought I detected a soupçon of melancholy in her response. It wasn't so much what she was saying – it was more in her tone of voice than anything else. Was there something about that night that she regretted as well? No, no, I had better steer clear of that minefield and return to safer ground. 

"Thanks for dinner. It's been a wonderful evening."

That seemed enough of a generic, socially acceptable comment to get things back on track. 

She leaned in close, her lustrous hair brushing against my cheek. She was almost whispering in my ear, like it was "our little secret".

"It's one of those times you just don't want to end."

There was a distinctive smokey, sensual quality to her words that sent my mind and heart reeling. She pressed her body against mine and nuzzled her head into my neck. This was too much for me to defend against. I closed my eyes and, just for a moment, let a long suppressed desire take hold of me. I was like an alcoholic indulging in one last drink before checking into the Betty Ford Clinic. 

Oh God, don't let this end, please --- let me stay in this dance --- forever.

If only, if only ---

And then it was all over. I roused myself from my reverie. After the obligatory half-hearted applause, Donny and Mel materialized at our elbows.

"Excuse me, sir. Mind if I cut in?"

It was all so gracious and genial. To say no would have been untenable. 

Mel effortlessly exchanged positions with Daphne. With a brief backward glance at the woman of my dreams dancing in Donny's arms now, I allowed myself one miniscule moment of maudlin lamentation. That damn lump in my throat made an encore presentation, but I forced it back where it belonged and turned my attention to my wife - Mel. 

By the time the second song ended my dance with Daphne seemed like --- like a mirage. Did it really even happen? Had I actually held her so close that I felt the beating of her heart against mine? Was it truly her in my arms? Or was it just a figment ---

"Niles, I have to speak to you right away." 

My brother's agitated voice encroached into my musings. He glanced at Mel and then back at me, "In private, please."

I excused myself and accompanied him out into the hallway.

"What is it?" I brusquely inquired.

"Not here," he hissed and marched off to the elevator. "I'll tell you when we get up to the room." 

I knew there was no prying it out of him when he was in this kind of mood, so I just capitulated to his provisos. 

Once we were safely stowed in his room however, he got quickly to the point. 

He told me he had been watching when Daphne and I were dancing and claimed that it was obvious by the look on my face that I still held deep feelings for her. At first I thought he was just putting my commitment to Mel to the ultimate test. I angrily denied his charge, thinking that I could quickly quash any further prodding on his part. But he had just begun. He had weapons in his arsenal I hadn't even dreamed of – 

"She knows."

A bit of that defensive barrier between my heart and Daphne began to crumble. 

"Daphne knows that you have feelings for her. She's known for some time."

Damn Frasier! He knows how vulnerable I am when it comes to Daphne! Why was he telling me this --- now? Was it a callous joke on his part? I felt like I was drowning – I had to save myself. I headed for the door, telling him that I wasn't going to stand for any more of this talk. I placed my hand on the doorknob and started to turn the handle. 

"Niles, Daphne feels the same way about you!"

If my brother had come up behind me with a croquet mallet and clobbered me in the head I couldn't have been more staggered. 

I couldn't speak. I could scarcely manage to breathe. It was all I could do to pivot slowly around and face him, leaning against a nearby bureau for support.

While my body may have been in a near paralyzed state, my mind was racing at a thousand miles a minute. Panic seized me --- 

Oh, Lord! The look she gave me on the balcony at Christmas --- the way she rubbed my hand when I burned it - could she actually have real feelings for me? After all this time? Her comments about Mel --- was it --- jealousy? What was going on? I --- I felt like the ground was slipping out from under me.

I looked at Frasier silently begging him to tell me more.

He quickly qualified his statement, explaining that he wasn't positive about his information. She had retracted her original declaration when I announced that Mel and I had got married. Yet there had been something in the way she was looking at me on the dance floor that told him that the entire truth of this matter hadn't been fully revealed. 

"Oh, my God!" was all I could say. 

This was --- was a complete mess! It wasn't supposed to happen like this! I had married Mel and now --- now Daphne was supposed to marry Donny. Everything was turning out topsy-turvy all of a sudden. Why? Why was this happening?

Obviously seeing how distraught I was, Frasier offered a heartfelt mea culpa for the mental anguish his revelation had caused me. 

But I didn't even get a chance to thank him and assure him that I knew he had acted out of brotherly love and concern for me, before a tapping at the door interrupted us. 

It was Mel. I had inadvertently locked her out of our room. I led her over to the adjoining door and apologized profusely for my actions. She left with a peck to my cheek and a goodbye that sounded like a prison sentence. I instinctively reached up and wiped her kiss from my face. 

Oh my God, indeed! This was my wife! The woman whom I had only just married three days ago --- and now the thought of any trace of her lips on me was something that had to be eradicated. What had I done? What --- what should I do? 

Suddenly the room started to grow dim and a loud buzzing noise filled my head. I found it increasingly difficult to breathe again and my knees felt like rubber. 

I genuinely thought I was going to pass out.

And I would have too, if Frasier hadn't guided me over to a bench at the end of the bed and helped me regain my composure. 

I heard myself talking --- blathering on about how terrible all this was, saying that I loved Mel, but, but ---

I thought I loved Mel – I really did. Just days ago I thought she was everything I could ever need.

Only now I had something in my possession that I had never had before --- I had a possibility that Daphne could --- could love me. This was something that I just couldn't turn away from.

I had to know for sure! I had to talk to Daphne. I had to hear it from her mouth directly. And I had to do it right away!

I tried to explain to Frasier my plan as I rushed to the door. 

When I flung it open – there she was! 

Daphne --- Daphne was standing right in front of me. 

Of course Donny was with her, but nothing was going to stand in my way now, so after a minimum amount of inane chitchat, I just politely insisted that I needed to speak to her. Frasier read my signals and excused himself without further ado and then --- then we were alone.

She seemed on edge, her hands clenched tightly by her sides, her voice strained – as if she knew that I just didn't want to convey my best wishes to her one last time or discuss a problem with the seating chart. Did she sense that the tension in the air had to do with "us"? Had she been second-guessing her chosen path as well? Maybe her nervousness was a good sign – did it mean that I might have a chance?

After a couple of false starts I finally took one gigantic gulp of air and launched myself over the brink. It was now or never.

"I was just talking to Frasier about a conversation that you two had –" 

She didn't give me a chance to go any further. Her frustration at Frasier's tattling poured out of her. But it was more than that --- I could tell she was using her condemnation of him as an excuse to hide from an even more troubling struggle that she had come face to face with finally.

One of us would have to take the first step – one of us was going to have to say the truth out loud ---

"No, Daphne – I'm glad he told me because - I love you."

Once I had said it I felt like I had stepped into a whole new world. 

There wouldn't be any misunderstanding on her part, like there was when we danced the tango. I wasn't even going to let the possibility of her rejection stop me now. I let everything spill out. I felt relieved – like a burdened sinner after he genuflects and chronicles his confession to his priest. 

No interruptions were going to thwart me – not Dad, not Donny, not Mel – not any of Daphne's rowdy, rude family members. This was my last stand! I was going to persist – I was going to get an answer one way or another. My love was going to be either welcomed by her or spurned, but tonight was the night I finally would know. 

And so, after a whirlwind of my pleas, her counter-arguments, and a plethora of family and fiancés' intrusions and confusions I eventually found myself standing on the balcony outside the room, waiting for Daphne, determined to find out just how strong her feelings for me really were.

I knew the potential for disaster was there. When she slipped through the door and joined me, standing beside me, but avoiding all eye contact, I could sense I was on a very shaky footing.

I started to prattle on, hoping to buy some time --- a few extra minutes, a couple of seconds even --- anything, so --- so that she would find a way to see how much I needed her. 

And then it happened.

With a cry of "Oh, for God's sake Dr. Crane!" she pounced on me, wrapping her arms around my neck, and began kissing me the way I had only dreamed about. 

A passionate, perilous kiss – one that carried with it more meaning than a whole volume of love sonnets.

It took a couple of seconds for my mind to be convinced that this was really happening, but very – very quickly I found my bearings and responded to her advance. 

That kiss will live with me --- forever. It was everything to me --- heaven and earth and all points of bliss in between. When we finally broke for air I felt a calmness that only comes with someone who has found their way after being lost for a long, long time. 

"I think you can call me 'Niles' now." 

It was a signal – I wanted her to know that our relationship had changed from that moment on.

I leaned in carefully and enfolded her in my arms again, kissing her just as deeply as she had done, but without the rush of desperation.

I was where I always was meant to be --- in Daphne's arms.

But it wasn't enough. 

She put her hands up and backed away from me. Tearfully she explained that she couldn't call me by my first name and I knew in an instant I had rapidly lost all that I thought I had gained.

At least I knew she really was in love with me - I knew that for sure now. It wasn't just a vague impression that I had sensed or some speculation that Frasier thought might be true --- Daphne told me so herself. Not only with her kiss but also with what she said.

"I do love you," were her exact words, and yet --- in the very next breath she pushed my love away. 

"But I can't do this."

I felt my life going into a freefall. Everything I ever really cared about tumbled away from me as she spoke. I was the novice skydiver who, after years of procrastination, finally took that first long step out of the plane, only to find that his parachute had indeed failed to open. 

I know it wasn't easy for her to reject what I was proposing – her calling off the wedding and me divorcing Mel so we could be together. I think she was tempted to go along with it. Tempted --- but ultimately not convinced. I understood. It involved taking a pretty substantial risk. Giving up the security of a completely tolerable and respectable life with Donny, incurring the wrath of people who would be more than just a little entitled to righteous fury for what we were about to do to them and setting out with only an impulsive and outrageous notion to justify your actions. She was frightened, caught between her desires and her fears. This was all so new to her but very familiar terrain for me. I had been scared like she was now for seven years, petrified of the potential for failure --- terrified, that is, until I had heard that there might be the most infinitesimal of possibilities that she could, just perhaps, return my feelings for her. 

She desperately flung out all sorts of logical reasons why we should not pursue our newly discovered passions for each other --- she had promised dear, sweet Donny that she would marry him; I had made an even stronger commitment to Mel; it was too risky; we didn't know each other in any real sense – every word she said made perfect sense. 

But this wasn't about making sense! This was about following what you knew was right in your heart. I tried desperately one vain attempt to get her to recognize that.

"Daphne, take it from someone who knows; you don't want to spend half your life thinking about a chance you didn't take."

But her trepidation won out in the end.

"I'm sorry. My mind's made up. I think we should say good night now."

There was nothing more I could say or do. It was over. 

"Good night, Daphne."

"Good night, Dr. Crane."

She fled the balcony with tears in her eyes. 

I wanted to follow after her – grab hold of her and kiss her until my passion just overwhelmed her, prostrate myself in front of her and grovel until she acquiesced - but I promised her earlier that I would accept her decision and I could not break that vow. I had to abide by her judgment and not try and guilt her into doing what she knew that I desperately wanted. I didn't want her to feel pressured – I wanted her to come to me on her own volition. It was the only way it could be. 

My mind was numb, as I stood there in the gentle night breeze; my soul battered by the roller coaster of emotions that I had just underwent. I felt so disconnected from my surroundings – was there any real purpose left in my life? I looked down to the garden below – the garden where tomorrow she would betroth Donny. For one brief moment I considered climbing up on the rail and jumping. It would be so much easier for me if I just ended it all – no more heartache, no more longing --- no more seeing her with someone else, day after long day. Just one leg and then the other over the side, close my eyes, fall forward and it would be done. 

But I knew I wouldn't. Oh, whether I died or just merely mutilated myself wasn't the deciding factor – I really couldn't have cared less either way at that point. What stopped me was --- was imagining that it would have caused Daphne more grief if I went through with such a rash act and --- and I just couldn't do that to her. That was all that counted – she was all that really mattered to me now. 

And so she saved my life tonight. I would go on with my miserable existence for her.

So here I am back in my – our room, listening to Mel wheezing through her teeth-bleaching contraption. 

She was already sleeping when I crept in, purposely being as quiet as possible, so I could avoid waking her. I know --- I know I will have to talk to Mel soon, but for tonight I just want to set that aside. 

I didn't want any incursions to tarnish the memory of Daphne in my arms. Sitting here at my desk, my journal in my lap, with nothing but the moonlight for lumination, I can feel her in my arms, taste her in my mouth, smell her fragrance --- see her beauty when I close my eyes. And her words still echo in my ears "I do love you."

What am I going to do? 

How can I carry on? It won't be easy, but I'll do it for Daphne. I'll stay with Mel and lock up my feelings. I won't have Daphne feeling guilt-ridden about destroying my life, I won't have her worrying that her decision to marry Donny devastated me and left a shell of a man in its wake, a broken failure who risked everything and came up short. She must never, never know – so I will carry on --- pretending to accept the death sentence that was handed to me. I have no other choice than to return to my life that I had planned with Mel, so that Daphne can marry Donny with a clear conscience. And who knows - some day, when time has layered a thick scar over this wound in my heart, maybe --- just maybe, I will be able to regain a small fragment of the sheer happiness I lost today. 

" . . then black despair  
The shadow of a starless night, was thrown

Over the world in which I moved alone."

- Percy Bysshe Shelley

Adieu.

Stay tuned for Part 17 (to be continued)


	17. Chapt 17: Another Bride Another Gloom

Just One Look 

By Valma 

Part 17: Another Bride; Another Gloom 

Those who inflict must suffer, for they see

The work of their own hearts and that must be

Our chastisement or recompense.

- Percy Bysshe Shelley

Daphne's Diary

Dear Diary:

Oh, God! How could I have done that to him! 

What type of a monster am I?

When he looked at me with those eyes --- so fearful, so hopeful, so desperate, there wasn't any doubt in my mind what my rejection had done to him.

I knew I had taken his heart and smashed it up into tiny pieces – my words about commitment and promises were the hammer tongs that pulverized his soul. 

And yet – I did it all the same.

Niles --- Niles, Niles – why couldn't I just say his name? Screw what others would think! All he wanted to do was love me – was that such a crime?

No --- it wasn't a crime, but it was a sin. I don't mean a "going-to-church-quote-from-the-Bible" kind of sin, but a moral transgression nevertheless against Mel and Donny that I just couldn't justify by my love for him.

I realized from the moment that he held me in his arms when we were dancing that there was going to be trouble --- 

His hand felt almost too comfortable on my back, like it belonged there. He smelled so intoxicatingly good I couldn't help but bend a tad closer to drink up as much of him as I could. He was trying to be politely cordial, but every word he spoke seemed like an overture to a dilemma. He was the one who started it - he conjured up the Snowball, he brought up wonderful evenings and dinner in the same breath – like that amazing night we sang in harmony while working in his kitchen and then I secretly stole a kiss from his lips and felt a stirring like I had never experienced before --- or since. Why did he do that? Why would he want to trigger those memories in me --- unless, unless he still had a flicker of fascination in his soul for me? 

I weakened, I let my guard down and let my desires slip out – I knew the minute the words were out of my mouth that I had said too much --- exposed my heart just a bit too much. But --- what can I say – he does that to me.

"It's one of those times you just don't want to end."

I think he knew what I meant. He'd have had to been blind, deaf and dumb not to pick up on the fervor in my voice. 

But he didn't react with shock or consternation, like a married man should have - he just let me melt into his arms with an ease of someone who wants so much but asks for so little. 

I rested my head on his shoulder and let my affection for him seep into his being. I could hear him breathing deeply – soaking up all that I could give. 

If we could just remain like this – dancing, holding each other closely, not caring about what the world might think --- like the song said – "They can't take that away from me."

But that was not to be. The dance ended and so did the dream. We both went back to our respective partners. I heard him call Mel "darling" as he took her hand – that word sliced into my heart like a razor. She was his wife --- what was I to him? 

I looked down at Donny – at least I knew where I stood with him. But what about --- Niles? Where did I fit into his neatly orchestrated life? I glanced over at him, his back was to me – I guess the truth was that I didn't fit into that enigma I should be calling Dr. Crane, but just couldn't bring myself to. 

With Donny I knew – everything was simple and kosher --- all above-board, there was no --- no mystery, no doubts. 

I tried to refocus and listen to what Donny was talking about as we danced. I found that he was telling me how happy he was that we had decided to book the Wayside Inn and that he was going to use it as a tax write-off because several of the guests were current clients of his and all he had to do was talk a bit of shop and he could legitimately do it. 

"How clever," I said. 

How calculated, how cunning --- how Donny, I thought. 

But I guess I'm being unfair. Donny can be kind and even sentimental – it's just that he's not --- not Niles. He never will be. 

When I looked up again Niles – Dr. Crane was gone. So was his brother. Mel had a "sucking on lemons" expression on her face. I spied Martin over at the bar, convinced Donny that I was tired enough to sit the next dance out and beat a fast retreat to the stool next to him. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Donny shrug and then approach Mel with an invitation to foxtrot with him. That would keep them both occupied for a bit while I chatted up Martin. 

"How's it going Mr. Crane?" I asked casually.

"Great, Daph," he replied as he sipped on his beer. "Do you want something from the bar?"

"No --- no, not right now, thanks. Where do you suppose that son --- I mean, those sons of yours have gone off to?"

Martin looked at me, but didn't say a word.

He took a long slow drink from his glass and then set it down carefully.

"You mean Niles, don't you."

It should have been a question, but it wasn't – it was a confirmation, plain and simple. 

I couldn't look him straight in the eye. 

"Whatever," I mumbled.

Mr. Crane reached out and touched my hand. 

"Daphne, how long have you known you loved him?"

I pulled my hand back and twisted a cocktail napkin into a "reefer-like" stick.

"Love him? Love --- him? Mr. Crane! What kind of a question is that?" 

I glanced over at Martin's face and knew that I couldn't continue with this farce. The jig was up – I should have known better than to think I could hide anything from Marty for too long. 

"About four months, maybe --- maybe more. Since Christmas time to be precise." 

The chill from that night on the balcony still went straight to my bones. I gave a little shiver. A tear rolled down my cheek. I quickly wiped it away with the palm of my hand. 

"Have you told him about this?" 

He made it sound so easy – like telling a doctor about a pain in my elbow. 

I laughed a soft chuckle. 

"No --- no I haven't and it doesn't look like now would be the time to, would it?" I sighed and waved my hand around in a circle as if to remind him that a wedding was happening here in the morning. "Besides I know he isn't exactly going to return the favor, so what would be the use?"

"You owe it to Niles, but what is more you owe it to yourself, Daph."

"Now you sound like your other son," I chided him gently. "Got any more advice King Solomon? Tell me - are you really that concerned about my love life or do you just want him to dump Mel?"

"Hey, can you blame me? Mel could be Maris' twin sister," he said shaking his head as he laughed. "Well --- if she lost ten pounds she would."

"Donny seems to get along with her all right," I retorted, turning around to see my fiancé heading towards me. 

"Well, he just doesn't know any better," Martin, remarked getting to his feet. "I gotta go to the can."

With that he shuffled off leaving me alone with Donny. 

"Mel can sure dance," he declared wiping his brow. "Did you know she actually suffers from vertigo? She's amazing."

"Yes, she's a regular Ginger Rogers," I said, hoping my sarcasm wasn't totally lost. I saw Mel head for the door. Was she also wondering where the missing Dr. Crane was? 

"Want a nightcap, Daph?" 

"Sure, Donny – a glass of red wine would be nice."

Maybe I could drown my wishes in a goblet of booze. We sat for a while talking about the routine details of tomorrow – it seemed to be the perfect antidote to push my worries aside. But soon the wine was gone, my brothers were starting to kick up an embarrassing ruckus and I just couldn't think of another word to say to my future husband. And of course whenever I closed my eyes all I could see was --- Niles --- smiling shyly as he invited me to dance, laying his head against mine and inhaling my bouquet as we moved in tandem around the dance floor --- 

"Daph, my foot's killing me – do you think we could call it a night?"

"Sure, Donny. How many times can one person stand seeing Peter swallow a pint in one gulp with a pair of knickers on his head?"

I rolled my eyes. Those brothers of mine were bloody well humiliating. 

We ambled toward the elevators. Donny started to whine again about his foot, or ankle or something like that and I --- I couldn't stop thinking about --- well, about him – Niles. Just the thing a soon-to-be-bride is supposed to be obsessing about on the eve of her wedding – another man --- and a married man at that! I felt like such a slut.

And then suddenly there he was – throwing open a door as he said my name.

"Donny! Daphne!"

He seemed particularly anxious. His face was drawn and he was huffing and puffing like he had just finished a fifty-yard dash. He mentioned that he needed to speak with me and hinted that it had to do with the wedding. What could I do? Refuse to talk to him? He seemed so frenetic that I don't think he would have taken no for an answer.

Donny begged off and went off to bed. Frasier, who had been hovering over his brother's shoulder like a cobra before it strikes, muttered a good night and bolted for the staircase. 

I suddenly felt very uncomfortable – very vulnerable. I didn't know if I was strong enough to be alone with him. I tried to steel myself – my wedding was tomorrow morning. He was a married man – on his honeymoon for God's sake! I already had slipped up once tonight when we were dancing and --- and I guess talking to Martin about my little secret wasn't such a bright idea either – although I was pretty sure that I could trust that old codger not to broadcast what I had said. 

The point is that --- that I had to be very careful and I had this ominous feeling that he hadn't asked me in to talk about floral arrangements or room consignments. Let's see --- Frasier and he had been obviously talking; Frasier, unlike his father, was a blabbermouth and now a totally frazzled Niles wanted to talk to me --- it didn't take a genius to see that busybody brother of his had told him about my tearful confession. He probably wanted an explanation, or an apology or --- or a statement written in blood saying that I wouldn't stalk him or Mel. God, this could turn out to be so degrading!

I could see he was a bundle of nerves, his hands twitched nervously; he rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, as was his habit when he was under a lot of stress. I almost felt more sorry for him than I did myself.

"So Daphne ---"

I jumped on his sentence.

"Yes."

I guess I wasn't much better when it came to the "nerves" department.

I heard him suck in some dry air and try a different approach.

"Could I offer you something to drink?"

His voice cracked as he spoke.

Why did everyone think I was thirsty? 

"Um, no thank you."

"Oh, all right. Anyway, Daphne --- "

Oh God! He was going to get right to the point, wasn't he?

"Perhaps an Orangina."

I hoped that would buy me a few more minutes and then I could be better prepared. He scurried over to the mini-bar and while he was extracting two bottles I prattled on incessantly about --- about --- I can't even remember what I talked about now. Only that I felt like that if I kept on talking he couldn't say what he wanted to, so I just continued yapping. No eye contact though – that would have been more than I could handle.

But I couldn't stall forever and finally we sat down and the inevitable happened. 

"Anyway, I was just talking to Frasier about a conversation you two had --- "

Bloody hell! Here it comes, I thought.

I wanted to hide under the bed. He was worried I was upset --- upset! That was putting it mildly! 

I lit into him! I just exploded – I was angry at him, at his gossipy brother, at --- at the whole world! I paced around the room like a caged tiger. This was so cruel, so --- so pointless!

"No, Daphne, I'm glad he told me because - I love you."

I stopped dead in mid-rant.

What? What did he say?

He --- he loved me? Not "I used to have feelings for you." Not "Listen Daphne, we are just good friends and that's all we are ever going to be."

No – he said, "I love you."

He also used the word "glad" I think.

I was just about to speak when Martin burst through the door. Niles stared at his father as if he had just slapped him in the face with a fish.

Marty quickly surmised that he really didn't belong in this conversation and promptly withdrew. 

We were alone once again.

I tried to make sense of this shocking revelation. Is this the same chap that just ran off and tied the knot last weekend? Did he really mean what he had said? No – no, he couldn't --- there wasn't any logic between his recent actions and the words he was saying to me now. I told him he was talking gibberish. But he met my feeble protest with one of the tenderest declarations of love I had ever heard. His voice trembled with honesty and emotion as he laid his long denied feelings out in the open ---

"Not a day has gone by that I haven't thought about you."

Tears filled my eyes and I felt moved by the density of his feelings. 

"What's the difference between a blister and a boil?"

I turned and saw Donny coming through the connecting door from our room.

It was all I could do to cry out his name. I was still so bowled over by what I had just heard I --- I could barely think straight.

Niles must have sensed my dilemma and swiftly came to my aid. He deftly ushered Donny out with the minimum of suspicion as to the true nature of what was going on. 

And how did I reward his gallantry? I began grilling him over the coals of my own misgivings. But he held firm – looked me directly in the eyes and assured me that he never would have considered marrying Mel if he had only known that I might have feelings for him. 

"Trust me, Daphne, say the word and I will leave Mel in a heartbeat." 

I wanted to believe him --- but that didn't make it right.

And right on cue Mel came through the other adjoining door – this room had more traffic running through it than the intersection at Pike and Elm.

True to form she barely acknowledged my existence and proceeded to solicit Niles' input about their honeymoon plans – a romantic getaway to Italy. 

Their honeymoon plans - I thought my head was going to explode! The whole situation was taking on a surreal form.

Again Niles skillfully handled her question and steered her back to the exit. I watched him as he stroked her ego with his words – he was good at that. Perhaps too good at it? Oh God, I was about to make one of the most important decisions of my life and I just couldn't put up with all these interruptions! 

"Don't the doors in this bloody place lock?" I moaned.

We secured our privacy and he strode over to me like a zealot on a mission.

"Daphne, it's not too late for us. I meant what I said when I said I would leave her." 

Things were happening waaaay too fast for me. 

"That's crazy!" I blurted out.

"No, no, it's not crazy," his eyes opened wider, his whole body straining under the tension that surrounded us. "Not if you feel the same way I do."

He paused slightly and took a short breath. My heart stopped beating for a fraction of a second. 

"But I need you to tell me, and I can accept it if the answer is 'No' --- how do you feel about me?"

Was it really that simple? Did it all come down to that clear-cut equation – did I love him enough to go to any length to be with him? He had made it perfectly clear to me that he was willing to do just that. Now I had to decide how much I was prepared to risk for his love.

I just needed some quiet time to think about what he had said.

"Pardon."

Simon! The absolute last person that I wanted to see with all that was on my plate! From the minute he scuttled through the door with a key that he had stolen from Frasier I knew that chaos was sure to follow – and it did! 

Within minutes he had insulted me, offended Niles, raided the bar and invited every drunken sibling and relative of mine into the room until it had all the atmosphere of a carnival sideshow. 

While Mum nattered in my ear about parties in the Winnebago I caught sight of Niles quietly exiting through the balcony doors. 

I gave one last parting shot at Mum and hurried out after him.

There he was, standing by the rail like a fretful teenager on his first date. After a brief apology on my part for all the confusion, he tried to ease the tension by making a mild joke and some mindless conversation about the weather. It was heartrending to witness the agonizing contortions that his soul was going through while he waited for me to deliver my verdict. I didn't dare look at him – I knew that I would never be able to sort through all my emotions if I gazed into his deep, azure blue eyes while he chattered on about orange blossoms or jasmine --- or some such flower. I had to just make a decision – weigh the pros and cons. No touching him, no looking at him, no listening to his tearful voice, no kissing his sweet, sweet lips - 

"Oh, for God's sake, Dr. Crane!"

It was all too much – he was too much for me to resist any further! I sprang on him and almost devoured him whole! I held on to his neck and locked my lips onto his with such a force that I thought I might topple him over. He did seem taken aback slightly at first, but recovered nicely and showed me exactly what I had been missing all these years. 

Such warmth, such tenderness --- such passion. Could this man hide anything else under those expensively tailored Italian suits? His hands softly trailed over my back and sent quivers up and down my spine. The thrill of that moment can never be fully captured with mere words. I was simply in a state of rapture.

When we broke apart for a brief mouthful of air, he gently requested that I start calling him by his first name and then gathered me in closer to him. His second kiss told me so many things. It told me that he was speaking the truth when he had said that he would do anything – withstand anyone's wrath, accept any criticism, suffer anyone's scorn or defy any convention to have me by his side. Was I willing to do the same for him? His kiss also told me that he loved me – really loved me and --- and that he needed an honest answer from me so that he knew where he stood. Could I call him "Niles" out loud now?

I steadied myself and leaned back so I could speak. 

"No, I don't think I can," I heard my voice cracking along with his heart. "I do love you, but I can't do this."

I backed away from him and put some distance between the two of us.

About seven years of distance.

He tried to dissuade me, but it was with the conviction of someone who already knew he had lost the race. I felt terrible – it was the hardest thing I had ever done. 

I didn't do this lightly. I did love him – the thought of being with him excited me. I found myself just enjoying breathing in the air when I was next to him. He had a way about him that made me feel good about myself - and the world, whenever we were together. But there were other things to consider with this – like how could I hurt Donny and just leave him so suddenly? He'd done nothing to deserve such treatment – he even regarded Niles as his friend. There was the fact that we didn't really know each other very well – we hadn't even been on a date and --- and he was asking me to call off my wedding! And there was the age old nagging question that maybe this was just another way for me to run from a commitment – like I had done with Clive and others before. Was Niles just a convenient escape-hatch for me? And Mel --- Mel was Niles' wife – she would have every right to seek a truckload of revenge on both our heads if we went through with this --- this wild notion. It would be so complicated and dirty and it frightened me to the core. Could our love be strong enough to see us through this envisioned nightmare?

I just didn't know – so I played it safe and stuck with what I did know. There would be no first date, no getting to know him better – I was going to marry Donny.

And I broke his heart in the process --- and I --- I will have to live with that on my conscience as my punishment.

So I screwed my resolve to the "sticking place" and told him that I had made up my mind. 

True to his word he gave me one last pitiful look of despair and then whispered an anguished "Good night, Daphne."

I barely managed to squeeze out a "Good night, Dr. Crane." before rushing from the balcony in a flood of tears. 

I knew he wouldn't follow me – not because I doubted his absolute devotion, but because I was so sure of it. He had assured me he would accept my edict, no matter what the outcome, no matter how painful it was for him --- or me. He wouldn't break his word. 

And so I left him there on the balcony and made my way through the crowded room. The drunken party was in full swing. No one even noticed me as I slipped out the door. I paused in front of Donny's and my room. I could hear his snores all the way through the door. I glanced at my watch – it was 1:30 in the morning. I was supposed to be marrying him in less than nine hours. I put my hand on the doorknob. My whole body was shaking like a nudist on an ice floe. 

No – no I couldn't just go in the room, shed my dress and climb into bed with Donny. Not when I could still taste Niles in my mouth and smell the scent of him on my clothes. I turned around and headed down the hallway, not really knowing where to go – just wandering without a compass. 

How I ended up in the lounge I will never know, but there I was standing in the doorway, when I saw Frasier and Martin sitting in a pair of high back chairs near the fireplace. They were talking in low, solemn tones and when I approached them it went deathly quiet – very quickly. 

Probably owing to the fact that I looked like a refugee from an emotional holocaust, they rapidly surmised that things between Niles and me had not gone well. Frasier lept to his feet and after a second or two of tentative deliberation, he came forward and gave me one of his patented bear hugs. Through my blubbering, muffled by his suitcoat jacket, I could hear Martin chiming in with his support.

"That's O.K. Daphne, let it all out."

"Tell us what happened."

"We're here for you Daph."

I fell into a chair, blew my nose on Frasier's generous hankie and told them that Niles had declared his love for me, but that I just couldn't find it within myself to risk so much and go with him. He was asking too much from me.

Martin shook his head slowly. The look on Frasier's face was one of pure sorrow. 

"I love him, but --- " 

I couldn't finish. 

"He loves you, Daphne," Frasier said somberly. "He's always loved you." 

Martin wiped his eyes with his sleeve and cleared his throat. 

"I --- I have to get a drink. I --- I must have something stuck in my windpipe. 

I think I can convince the bartender to break the rule about last call --- any one else want something?"

Frasier nodded yes and I followed suit. 

"Brandy," I said with a rawness that surprised myself. 

"Thanks Dad," Frasier added.

"Will he be all right, Dr. Crane?" 

"Who? Dad? Sure he's done this plenty of times – he has a way with bartenders." 

I squinted my eyes at him and he caved. 

"Oh you mean --- Niles? Well, I suppose so Daphne. He's a pretty resilient fellow – we don't give him enough credit I think. Look at all he put up with from Maris – yet he came through that."

"So I'm in the same league as Maris am I?" I asked with a bitter tinge. "Great company I keep."

"No, no, I didn't mean that!" he huffed. "I just meant that Niles is made of tougher stuff than what he looks like sometimes and he's weathered emotional setbacks before. That's all."

Martin appeared and handed me a snifter full of brandy. I took one long gulp and sighed. 

"I didn't want to hurt him – I don't want to hurt anybody!"

"We know Daph, we know."

The elder Crane reached out and patted my hand.

"It's just so damn messy," I slurred as I took another swig of my drink. "If the wedding is called off there'll be so many disappointed people – so many angry disappointed people to face. This way is better – all round."

I finished off my glass and blinked my eyes. My head felt a bit woozy. I slumped back in the chair. 

"He'll get over me --- right? 

I was looking for a cheap, easy way to bring me solace.

"Get over you?" Frasier repeated. "No, I don't think so – at one time I thought he might be able to. I now realize I was mistaken. He will however, adapt - he'll learn to live with the absence of you, but --- get over you – never."

His frankness cut me to the quick. There were genuine feelings involved here – I couldn't get away with platitudes. 

"The real question is Daphne," Martin said sadly. "Will you be able to live with the choice you have made?"

With those words ringing in my ears, I thanked them both for the brandy and sympathy, said my "good nights" and stumbled up to my room. 

Can I --- can I live with my choice? 

I close my eyes and all I see is him. Even when I am lying next to Donny. All I see is Niles.

I have to answer that question.

Is this a choice I can live with – a life without Niles?

That's what this is all about.

I have to sleep now. 

As Niles said – "We all have a very big day tomorrow," after all.

Goodnight Diary.

Stay tuned for Part 18 (to be continued)


	18. Chapt 18: No Wedding and Two Funerals

Just One Look 

By Valma 

Part 18: No Wedding and Two Funerals

Daphne's Diary:

Dear Diary,

It was just one sentence, one passing remark made by a little girl with an eye patch.

She came into the loo and caught me staring into the mirror. I had gone in there to get away from all the noise – the bridesmaids, me mum, my Aunt Ida – all them fussing and primping and giggling and crying tears of joy. It wasn't their fault – it was a wedding – my wedding --- and these types of activities were to be expected. It was only natural. 

But it didn't feel natural; it didn't feel right --- for me.

Ever since I woke up and Donny was standing over me with a silly grin on his face and a kiss on his lips, I had felt like I was only doing what was "expected" of me. It was like I was in a play or a movie and I had a part to perform and even though I hadn't rehearsed enough, I was going to stumble through with this no matter what, because if I didn't the reviews would be just horrible. I thought I had to be a "trooper" – go out there and get married so that I wouldn't let anyone down. 

It seemed like a fair trade – one totally broken-hearted man in exchange for Donny's happiness and both our parents and all my many relatives' glee at seeing me walk down the isle. And Mel --- I --- I had saved her marriage --- that shouldn't go unmentioned. And I don't even "like" her! I ought to get a medal for that kind of unselfishness!

Trouble is, it didn't feel balanced. It just looked that way on paper. In reality all those people's feelings didn't begin to compensate for the vast emptiness I felt whenever I remembered leaving Niles on that balcony. 

Martin was right. The question was --- could I live with what I had done? Could I live without him?

And the more I thought about it I realized the answer was --- no.

I heard the flush of the toilet as Audrey left the stall and I thought how much my life was like that – circling the bowl, swirling down the drain with each passing minute, and --- and I was the one pushing on the handle.

A tear popped out and tracked down my cheek. I looked in the mirror --- what was I doing to Niles --- and to me?

"You're the saddest bride I've ever seen, Auntie Daphne," Audrey said as she dutifully washed her hands. 

I looked down at her. 

Dogs and children, isn't that what they say? 

Only four-years old, one eye destroyed in a freak accident at a cricket match and she had more vision, more honest insight, than a whole roomful of adults – drunk or sober. 

If I couldn't convince Audrey I was happy with my choice – who was I trying to kid?

Only myself apparently. 

"Not for long, I am," I said, helping her hit the hand dryer button. "Not for long."

"Thanks Auntie," Audrey politely chirped as she trotted to the exit.

"No, dearie, thank you," I replied smiling and blowing her a little kiss. "Thanks for helping me to see what I have known in my heart all along."

After the door swung shut I turned towards the mirror and looked myself right in the eye.

"You've got to call off the wedding. You've got to stop yourself from making the biggest mistake of your life and marrying Donny. You've got to do it right now."

I started to try and picture what would happen if I went out and announced that the wedding was off. 

Pandemonium, bedlam --- all hell would break loose – that's what! 

No, I had to see Niles first and tell him that I was wrong last night – that I couldn't live without him and I loved him enough to take that risk, that frightening, scary leap into the unknown, as long as he would be there with me.

But just where was he right now – forty some odd minutes before my wedding?

Probably with --- Mel? I swallowed hard. When I thought about talking to him I hadn't pictured Mel by his side while I tearfully opened my heart to him. No – no that wasn't going to stop me! I would deal with her somehow! I wasn't going to let my fears prevent me from being with Niles any longer!

I peered out the bathroom door, and seeing that the coast was clear, tiptoed over to the edge of the balustrade to view the goings on in the lobby below. 

I could see Mum plopped in a chair, feet up in the air and moaning on about the lumpy bed in her room. Dad was off to one side of her, knocking back a cold one, while Peter stuffed his face full of mints – wrappers and all! It seemed like dozens of people were milling about making idle conversation or just standing impatiently waiting for the festivities to begin. No Niles though --- 

"Have you seen Niles?" 

That shrill voice could only belong to one woman - Mel. 

"He said he was going to go and put on some insect repellent, but that was a while back --- I checked our room and he wasn't there. Where could he have wandered off to, now? He wasn't himself this morning. He might be coming down with something." 

Getting nothing more than a non-committal shrug and a grunt out of Simon, Mel moved on.

"Have you seen Niles?" 

Her voice blended into the crowd. 

At least that confirmed that he wasn't anywhere within Mel's grasp, even if it didn't exactly tell me where he was.

I heard a guest room door open down the hall and quickly dashed back to the safety of the ladies restroom. Just how was I going to hunt for Niles without running the gauntlet of Donny's and my family? 

I glanced around. The window above the sinks was probably big enough – if I could just hoist myself up there and push it open. 

Using a basin as a makeshift stool I gingerly climbed up and shoved at the windowpane. It slid open easily and I managed to raise my body up and through the gap without too much trouble. Thank God I still did my yoga regularly!

Dangling from the windowsill by my fingertips, I grabbed onto a drainpipe and shimmied down the wall and onto the ground luckily without attracting any attention from the Inn's staff or arriving guests. The bushes and blossoming trees that surrounded the hotel gave me enough cover.

After catching my breath and adjusting my gown, I realized that I had no idea where I was headed. Just where would Niles be? 

I scurried through the shrubbery and suddenly noticed a waiter carrying a tray with a bottle of wine and three glasses, approaching Martin's Winnebago, which was parked out front in the lot closest to the dinning lounge. Crouching down behind a hedge I saw him knock on the door of the RV and then heard Frasier's distinctive booming voice –

"Hello."

"Here's your wine, sir."

"Yes, thank you very much, young man. And this is for you. Thank you."

The waiter disappeared into the stand of trees that separated the parking lot from the adjoining gardens. 

What was Frasier doing in the Winnebago drinking at this hour in the morning? And that wine looked familiar --- it was that fancy bottle of "Chateau La Something-or-Rather" that I had given him when I arrived at the Inn yesterday. Three glasses meant that he wasn't alone.

I moved in closer. Maybe I could get a peek through the windows?

Over my shoulder I could hear some sort of a fracas happening in the garden. Had they discovered that I had scarbered? Not wanting to give myself away I edged back into the thicket and waited a few minutes. It was soon obvious that the commotion had to do with a couple of my idiot brothers – mum had moved her "act" outdoors was barking orders to Dad about going out and hunting my troublesome siblings down like dogs.

"And they'd better be sober enough not to barf on the bridesmaids when you find them!" she bellowed at him as he trundled off grumbling about needing another pint himself right now.

I lingered a while more, lying low until it quieted down and then continued my advance on the Winnebago.

Still well camouflaged, I was almost right in front of the door when it opened with a squeak revealing Frasier and Martin as they came down the steps. I shrank back further into the foliage.

"I saw a waiter, passing champagne just outside. I'll have him bring you a glass so you can --- "

My heart jumped with hope. Martin, Frasier – there was only one missing person in the Crane family triangle. That third glass had to be meant for - 

"Get the taste out, yes. Thank you, Frasier."

I let out a silent gasp. It was him!

He was there in the Winnebago --- and he was alone now. 

The door sprang back with a bang and soon Frasier and his father had walked off, heading back to the hotel.

I strode boldly up and gave a confident rap on the metal frame with my knuckles.

"Come in."

He sounded --- drained. Had I done too much damage with my ruthless rebuff of him? What if I had hurt him so badly that he just couldn't forgive me?

Suddenly I didn't feel so cocky – maybe this wouldn't turn out to be "Daphne to the emotional rescue". There was a possibility that he --- he might just not want to chance being burned so severely by me again. Oh God, I would just die! A sense of panic started to take hold in the pit of my stomach.

I opened the door and stepped in – my whole life was in his hands.

"Hello."

His face was pale and haggard - clear evidence of the agony he had been through.

Niles opened his eyes and looked up at me. 

"Daphne --- "

He pulled himself out of the driver's seat and stood there – his mouth open, with an expression of pure shock, wishfulness and mystification on his face.

It was obvious that I was one of the last people who he expected to see coming through that door, especially on this particular morning. Did he think I had come to torture him some more? Did he imagine me seeking him out just to pull the last remaining portion of feeling from his soul and stomp on it? 

I had to put his mind at ease – I had to humbly tell him that I had been wrong – so very wrong. I had to make sure that he knew I was ready now – ready to say yes to his love.

"I was wondering --- if you might be free for a date?"

I held my breath for what seemed like an eternity, but was really probably only a split second.

"Oh my God, yes!" he gasped almost incredulously as he bounded towards me in one step.

Judging by his thrilled reaction, there wasn't any question that he had even remotely conceived of rejecting my plea. I breathed a sigh of relief and stepped forward to meet him with open arms.

  
He embraced me so hard that he lifted me clear off the floor!

I hung onto him tightly. I could feel his heart beating wildly against mine. I didn't ever want to let go. If this were a cartoon fairy tale, the handsome prince would have kissed his royal beauty and the air would have been immediately festooned with hearts, ribbons and bluebirds, while an unseen chorus of harps and cherubs sang their praises. If it were an American western, the faithful cowboy would have slung his gal over his horse and they would have rode off together into the sunset! A sudden inspiration hit me – why not ride off into the sunset? The rest of the world be damned! Let's just get the hell out of here - now!

I leaned back and eagerly presented my idea to him. 

"Let's get this bloody boat moving!"

"What, you mean now?" he asked in amazement.

Yes - we were going to run away! Escape Mel and Donny, Mum's nattering and my brothers' drunken buffoonery and --- and the whole bloody mess – just Niles and me! The two of us were all we needed in life. We wouldn't have to explain anything to anyone! It could all be handled later with a few notes conveniently mailed from an undisclosed location until the entire furor had blown over.

He laughed nervously, but couldn't resist enthusiastically granting me my wish, as he sat down behind the wheel and started the engine.

We were off! 

"Fasten your seatbelt, Daphne," he said prudently. 

It was a moment I had been waiting for – a chance to show him how different things were going to be from now on.

"Dr. Crane" was a thing of the past.

"Fasten yours --- Niles."

Niles – just saying his name out loud was like a declaration of love for him. I felt lightheaded and giddy.

He gazed into my eyes, his face almost shining with anticipation and affection – smiled a quick, totally self-satisfied smile and launched the Road Warrior off on its getaway! 

Our impetuous voyage lasted as far as the end of the driveway. Both of us knew that we should go back and face the music, even if we didn't like the tune. I think I was more afraid than Niles – or maybe he just wasn't letting his terror show as much, for my sake? He kept on saying that he was willing to do whatever I wanted to, but I could tell his conscience was weighing heavy on him – he didn't like the idea of avoiding his responsibilities. But there were no moral ultimatums from him, he didn't try to coerce me - he just waited patiently until I came to my senses and made up my own mind to turn around. 

It was at the moment I realized that I was starting to really discover, in a much more profound way, what a wonderful person he truly was – and the actual depth of his love for me. 

It was those thoughts of Niles' love that kept me going throughout the day, when I had to finally face Donny and tell him why I couldn't marry him. 

He took it really hard – literally and figuratively!

When I managed to stumble the words out, his eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed, hitting his head on a good sized boulder in the rock garden where we had secluded ourselves for a minimum measure of privacy. I gave him first aid and got Roz, who had stationed herself as a sentry at the courtyard's entrance, to call for an ambulance.

Donny's Mom wouldn't let me near him after that, even when he regained consciousness. Shortly after, the Douglas family left the Wayside Inn in a flurry of slammed car doors and squealing tires, hurling insults in my direction all the way to the parking lot.

I sat down with Roz in the dining room. 

"I'm going to order you a scotch, Daphne," she declared, signaling the waiter as she spoke. 

"Roz – it's 11:30 in the morning!" I protested.

"Yeah, but in hell it's already past noon – and I think you just crossed over to that time zone, if I'm not mistaken," she countered.

"Can't argue with you there," I said while dabbed my eyes with a tissue. "I wonder how Niles is making out?"

"Oh, I figure it won't be long before the bat comes screeching out of her cave and we'll know all the details."

The mention of Mel made me shudder. Poor Niles. At least Donny didn't yell at me personally before he passed out and Roz – bless her loyal heart, fended off his displeased relatives with enough snappy vigor that it was all over in a matter of minutes. Niles still hadn't come down from the upstairs room where Mel and he had gone to have their "little chat". 

I took a sip of the scotch. It burned all the way down my throat. 

"Roz, do you think I should go up there and see how he's doing --- see if he's still all in one piece?"

Roz laughed. 

"What? Afraid that the little weenie might be even 'weenier' when Mel gets through with him?" she snickered.

I bit my lip and answered defensively, "No, but you should have seen him when I left him. He was trying so hard to pluck up my courage and --- and yet I could tell he was dreading even the thought of going up those stairs to see her. I just have a feeling that she could be so cruel to him and he wouldn't even fight back. He's --- he's just too soft-hearted."

Roz set her glass down and took my hand in hers. I could tell she regretted her sarcasm.

"Ooooh, I'm sorry, Daphne. I didn't mean to upset you. Remember Frasier and Martin are there somewhere close by to support him. They'll pull his nuts out of the fire before she can roast him alive – I'm sure."

Before I could reply, I heard a thunderous bang of a door and saw Mel flying down the staircase, suitcase in hand.

Her face was beet red. I slumped down a bit in the chair, hoping that she would just keep going, but as she passed us she came to a sudden stop and glared directly at me.

"I want you to know --- Daphne, that you --- you will live to regret what you have done this day. I defeated Maris and I can defeat you. You can't possibly offer him all that I can. As for Niles --- I told you before – I'll never let him go. Either he's mine --- or --- he's no one's!"

Having spewed out her icy threat, she turned on her heels and prepared to keep going. 

Roz started to get up, but I shook my head and called out. 

"Mel!"

She didn't turn around, but she did freeze in her tracks.

"You forgot one very important thing, Mel," I gulped a breath of air and continued. "I can offer Niles my love and --- and that's --- that's all he really wants." 

I saw Mel's empty fist clench and then unclench, but she didn't say anything back to me. She gripped her suitcase tighter in her other hand and proceeded through the lobby to the doors.

I flopped back into the chair and glanced over at Roz who was doing a little "victory salute" with her arms in her chair. I was shaking from stem to stern. 

"Way to go, Daphne!" Roz chortled. 

"Niles!" I cried and ran up the stairs.

Frasier and Martin were there with him and I could hear him quietly assuring them that he was fine. 

When he heard my footsteps he twisted immediately around to face me. His face radiated relief and he rushed into my arms, planting a kiss on me that took what little breath I had left, away. Martin and Frasier simply vanished – closing the door behind them. When I opened my eyes, we were by ourselves. 

We talked a bit about how our respective "ex-mates" had taken the news, but I knew Niles was holding back telling me the true ordeal that he had gone through. I decided not to reveal the menacing message that Mel had delivered to me before she left. No need adding to his anxieties when his plate was already overflowing as it was.

It wasn't too long before a guarded knock came on the door and Frasier cautiously opened it up, begging our pardon and informing us that we had to head back to Seattle in a short while.

When he withdrew, Niles took my hands in his and gave them both a couple of small kisses. 

"Daphne," he softly said. "Are you still glad you changed your mind this morning?" 

I smiled and then started to cry, more out of nervous exhaustion than anything else I think.

"Of course I am, Niles."

He pressed his face up against mine. His cheek felt so cool and dry in contrast to my damp, flushed skin. 

"Say that again, my darling Daphne." 

"What?"

"My name --- please?"

"Niles," I let it roll off my tongue and slide into his awaiting ear. "Niles --- Niles –'

He cut me off short with a kiss.

"Don't --- don't ever stop," he whispered huskily and kissed me once more. 

I have haven't either. Even when the Wayside Inn manager told me that I was 

going to have to fork over an ungodly sum for the bar tab my brothers had managed to mount but couldn't pay for, plus damages to the piano. Even when Simon asked me that if I wasn't pregnant, why had I "agreed to marry Donny in the first place?". Or even when I was packing my things, half listening to Mum go on about what a disaster this all was and how I was throwing a perfectly rich lawyer away for someone who was going to be a twice divorced man who seemed "kinda fey actually" – I just kept saying his name over and over in my head – like my own personal mantra; something to keep me focused and sane when there was nothing but chaos swirling around me.

"Niles --- Niles, Niles."

The very thought of him made me stronger.

I have a feeling I'll need that strength in the coming days. So will Niles. We have a lot to account for - heaps of hurt feelings to confront, awkward details that will have to be dealt with and legal issues to handle before we can be totally free and clear of the consequences of our actions. 

It won't be easy.

Then there's Niles --- I haven't the slightest doubt that I love him, but these recently discovered feelings are so new to me I need some time to adjust to the situation. For so long I only thought of him in one context – that of a friend. And while he still remains the same person, I am seeing him more completely now – as a man, as a lover and as a person who will hopefully share with me my most intimate dreams and desires. I want to get to know him – from this distinctively different perspective. That doesn't happen with one kiss – no matter how delicious that kiss is. It takes time --- time and shared experiences to build a relationship. 

I've had boyfriends and lovers before, but never have I been with someone like him. He's so keenly intelligent and clever, but also has the wide-eyed wonder of a little boy about him at the same time. He can be so pompous and pretentious, curling his snobby nose at the least little fashion faux pas --- and yet he can also be so understanding, sympathetic and perceptive – overflowing with care and compassion. He's so intense, so shy and so --- so absolutely adoring of me. 

And he --- he has to get to know me, too! I'm probably not "everything" he has imagined I would be, over the years – I couldn't possibly be. It is a little daunting, knowing that he held me up to this ideal for such a long time. I was a dream to him for seven years --- now, now I want to be real to him. 

I'm sitting by my bedroom window, looking up at the sky and I know I won't be able to sleep tonight. I can't – too many ideas keep crossing my mind, some are uncertainties as to what the future holds, some are assurances of having the support of friends like Frasier and Martin and Roz --- but mainly my mind is filled with --- with thoughts of Niles. 

I wonder if he is looking tonight at the same stars I am and thinking of me, right at this very moment?

I'll close my eyes and let myself float across Seattle until I find his window and seek him out and kiss him on his cheek. 

Don't worry Niles – I love you and we are finally together at last. 

See you in the morning, darling.

Good night.

Stay tuned for Part 19 (to be continued)

  



	19. Chapt 19: A Tale of Two Pities

Just One Look  
  
By Valma  
  
Part 19: A Tale of Two Pities  
  
My Journey Through Life - Niles Crane  
  
"Would that I were the heaven, that I might be All full of love-lit eyes to gaze upon thee." -Plato  
  
Tonight --- tonight I am in that vaulted position, that lofty celestial perch from which I can glimpse down upon my "angel" --- my Daphne. And finally - finally I feel utterly embraced by the boundless ecstasy that defines my love for her.  
  
Out there - when I strain my eyes hard enough, I can make out the twinkling glow of the Elliot Bay apartments on the "counter-balance" and I know that Daphne is there - probably awake and reflecting, like me, on the events that have occurred over the past twenty-four hours. I've done this countless times before in earlier days --- staring out across the cityscape, searching for the faintest symbol of her presence, feeling that if I distinguished even the mere outline of the building she was in --- that somehow connected her to me.  
  
I never fully admitted it to myself, but I indulged in this activity even when I was with Mel. We would be out on the balcony of the Montana, enjoying the evening breeze, reading or sipping on a glass of Chardonnay, when I would find my thoughts unwittingly traversing the chasm that separated Daphne from me. My imaginings weren't exclusively sexual, although I confess to that as well; but often I just pictured her going about her daily chores in that distant structure, cleaning the apartment, talking to Dad or Frasier, watching television, reading a magazine, eating a meal, taking a bath --- running the water, as she slipped out of her robe --- it would drop to the floor in a terrycloth puddle around her feet, unveiling her body, so voluptuous and -  
  
But then Mel would soon inquire out loud as to what that intense "far away" look on my face was about and I'd guiltily try to exorcise all traces of my thoughts. Subsequently I'd mentally flagellate myself for my clandestine impropriety and earnestly issue a silent pledge that I wouldn't do it again --- but like a compulsive gambler, the temptation always proved too great and before long I'd find myself thinking of her again - it was a vicious circle of fixation, recrimination and ineffectual self-denial. Thank God those days are over! Now I can freely be like those stars that lovingly look down on her - no more doubts, no more shame --- no more self-censure of my irrepressible feelings for her. I should have known better - there was a reason I couldn't expunge her from my mind - I never, never truly stopped loving her. Indubitably, I ought to have recognized why those thoughts were so persistent --- but I didn't, and as they say - hindsight has 20/20 vision. I can't go back and change what has happened in the past - I can only look happily to the future. No use crying over spilt milk, right?  
  
What's done is done.  
  
What doesn't destroy will us make us stronger.  
  
Clichés aside - if that last statement is true, then the events of the last twenty-four hours has made me into a Herculean behemoth.  
  
A day ago I thought I was destroyed - the emotional wreckage of my life beyond repair. Like a clock whose mainspring had seized up, I could not see how any time or effort could ever restore my heart to a workable condition. Yes, I had taken a solemn oath that I would "soldier on" with my life for Daphne's sake, but it had taken every ounce of stamina I had to greet the dawn with even a half-hearted "good morning" after spending the entire night fitfully awake, struggling to come to terms with the rejection I had suffered. After the second time Mel asked if I was feeling all right, I gave a couple of feeble coughs and exploited her concern for my health rather than garner any further suspicions as to the true nature of my malaise.  
  
As the hour of the wedding approached it became abundantly clear to me that it wasn't just abject melancholy that I had to deal with. While the minutes ticked by, I realized that there was a strong likelihood that I would deteriorate into a complete raving, hyperventilating lunatic if I was made to actually witness Daphne exchanging vows of love with Donny. There really wasn't a chance that I would survive that perilous "coup de grace"; not --- not after what had passed between us on the balcony the night before. I decided that I just couldn't go through with it, despite my good intentions of wanting to put on a brave face. I mumbled something to Mel about finding some bug repellant to protect myself from the winged pests in the garden and took off to quarantine myself in the Road Warrior, determined to stay holed up in there until the ceremony was over.  
  
A comforting kind of numbness crept over me as I sat in the driver's seat, alone with my thoughts inside that metal-encased cocoon, safely isolated from making a complete public disgrace of myself. Oh, I knew there would be an eventual price to pay for this respite. Mel, of course, would be rightly furious with me for my unforgivable lapse in decorum with deserting her at a social function, but I --- I would just have to endure that somehow --- later.  
  
When Dad and Frasier unexpectedly showed up, they tried each in their own way to bolster my spirits. I was very touched by their thoughtful gestures, so I made a pretense for their sake, to act like their words of encouragement had done the trick but the sad truth was --- that I really just wanted them to go away.  
  
And thankfully, finally they did.  
  
Again I was alone with my misery. A misery that I amply deserved - fitting punishment for my incredible stupidity at letting a divine creature like Daphne slip away because of my procrastination and fears over the years. I glanced down at my watch. Very shortly Daphne would be married and --- and --- I didn't want to contemplate the finish of that sentence. I closed my eyes - it was like waiting for the guillotine blade to fall.  
  
A knock came on the door. I surmised it must be Frasier's promised glass of champagne that he said he would send my way.  
  
Good. If I was to be like a condemned prisoner on "Death Row", I might as well have something chic to imbibe as a last request.  
  
I bade whomever it was to enter; not even bothering to open my eyes, fully anticipating a uniformed garcon to deposit a glass of bubbly and retreat quickly, but when the door opened a familiar yet startling voice greeted me.  
  
"Hello."  
  
My eyes popped open immediately.  
  
It was --- her - Daphne!  
  
Her voice trembled ever so slightly. She seemed to be teetering on the brink of uncertainty - as if she wasn't sure of exactly what kind of reception was in store for her.  
  
She looked resplendent, her white satin gown cinched neatly at her waist, her thick hair pulled back neatly, tucked behind a shimmering white veil. Every inch a beautiful bride. She glided into the Winnebago and stood by the door.  
  
"Daphne."  
  
I rose to my feet as I uttered her name, fearing that if I blinked --- she would disappear. Was she a mirage? Had I gone completely delusional and slipped into that nebulous world of hallucination? Why would she be here with me - when --- when she should be saying her "I do's" in the garden at this very moment?  
  
"I was wondering --- if you might be free for a date?"  
  
Free for a --- date? With her? She wasn't going to marry Donny? My brain took a nanosecond to process the connotation of what she had asked.  
  
She wanted me - me, not Donny!  
  
She had changed her mind.  
  
I felt the weight of seven years lift off my shoulders!  
  
I rushed into her arms, grabbing hold of her and holding her so closely that I thought my arms would break!  
  
"Oh my God, yes!"  
  
My darling, my love --- my Daphne!  
  
I wanted to kiss her until my lips were raw, I yearned to envelop her in my arms and make love to her, feel her body next to mine --- wasn't there a bed in the back of this contraption?  
  
"There's plenty of time for that later," she breathlessly stammered.  
  
Was she really psychic? Could she read my lustful, eager thoughts? Was she having those --- those urges too?  
  
"Let's get this bloody boat moving!"  
  
Daphne dashed to the front of the Winnebago - I followed after her as quickly as I could, considering my knees were like an unstable soufflé.  
  
"What, you mean now?"  
  
She anxiously explained that she wasn't about to face the angry mob that was expecting the scheduled Douglas/Moon nuptials, so that meant that we would have to make some fast tracks and offer our elucidations later - when things had cooled down.  
  
All right! Anything she wanted! She could have asked me to strip naked and pose as the hood ornament of the Road Warrior and I would have! Way back in the recesses of my cerebral cortex I could hear a tiny little voice saying that this wasn't right, that if we just ran off, it showed others that we were ashamed of our love --- shut the hell up!! Just do as she asks!  
  
"Fasten your seatbelt, Daphne," I cautioned. No use of us getting mangled in a vehicular accident and although I was getting better at maneuvering this monstrosity, it would just be sensible if -  
  
"Fasten yours, Niles."  
  
Niles! She called me "Niles"!  
  
I looked over at her - savoring this dream come true - I wanted this triumphant moment etched in my memory for all eternity --- Daphne and I were together at last!  
  
As we drove down the long laneway that led to the road, that scrupulous nagging voice in my head got louder and louder like the growing growl of an approaching thunderstorm. Outrunning a deluge always seems more appealing than getting inundated by it, but I knew that this was one tempest that we couldn't elude forever. Finally, Daphne saw this too and reluctantly agreed that we should return to the Inn and redress our actions. It wasn't going to be easy, but it had to be done. We had to go back and weather this storm to clear our consciences. Our escape from reality lasted a total of ten minutes.  
  
When we pulled into the parking lot, miraculously no one even seemed to notice the wayward Winnebago's absence. I shut off the engine and Daphne grasped my hand. She was quaking.  
  
"Niles, I'm --- I'm scared," she confessed. "Even though I know we are doing the right thing, I also know that what I have to say to him will hurt him terribly --- I just don't know if I have enough courage to tell him to his face. Please --- please, tell me again - how, how am I ever going to get through this?"  
  
I leaned over and kissed her on her cheek. This had to be my hour to shine - I had to show her that I had the strength to inspire confidence and prove to her I was worthy of her love.  
  
"Daphne," I whispered in her ear. "Both of us have spent too long hiding our love, from ourselves, from our families, from our friends and from the world. What we are doing today will change all that. This is a new beginning, not just for you and me, but also for --- for us."  
  
I felt a warm, salty tear steal down her face. I brought my hand up and wiped it away with my fingertips. I wanted to protect her as much as I could.  
  
"Do you want me to go with you when you speak to Donny? You can just wait in here until I finish talking to --- to Mel."  
  
I hadn't meant to gulp before I said Mel's name - but I did. It just happened. Yes, yes it did frighten me - I couldn't hide that fact. I knew how --- how intense Mel could be. Daphne looked up into my eyes.  
  
"We each have our own crosses to bear, don't we?" she asked rhetorically. She paused and then determinedly resumed, "I'm ready to speak to Donny now. I think it would be best if we did it separately and at the same time - quicker that way. You know --- divide and conquer - and all that. "  
  
I smiled at her.  
  
Before I could tell her how brave I thought she was, a knock came at the door. I didn't have to even open the door to know that the person on the end of that sound was my brother.  
  
"Come in, Frasier."  
  
Frasier stepped in and promptly shut the door behind him. He looked back and forth rapidly between the two of us, for all of about thirty seconds, and then said, "I take it the wedding's off for you --- and there is a divorce on the horizon for you?"  
  
He raised his eyebrow as a way of seeking verification.  
  
We didn't say a word - just nodded our heads in mute agreement with his assessment.  
  
"Weeelllll," he said in a rush of air and then laughed as he sprang forward and hugged us. "I just have to say how hap -"  
  
"Frasier, we still have to tell Mel and Donny," I interrupted. "We need your help. And time --- time is of the essence, before too many more people start wondering where the "bride-to-be" is and Mel has the staff drag the koi pond for my body."  
  
A dark cloud passed over his brow.  
  
"Oh -- of course," was all he said.  
  
Within minutes the three of us had devised a course of action. Roz would be recruited to go with Daphne for moral support, while Frasier and Dad would hover around by me --- to pick up the pieces of my mortal remains after I finished talking to Mel.  
  
After some quickly uttered goodbyes and good lucks, we were off with Frasier scouting ahead to minimize the chance of any parking lot confrontations.  
  
I took a last look at Daphne over my shoulder as Roz met up with us and led her off towards the garden area, the location of the most recent "Donny sighting".  
  
She seemed nervous, but resolute.  
  
I sighed.  
  
"Don't worry, Niles," Frasier assured me. "I know it doesn't seem like it, but I think the hardest part is already over."  
  
"You really don't know Mel that well, do you?" I quipped, but then quickly added, "I don't have even a whisper of doubt that whatever I have to face will be worth what I gain in the end with Daphne, but I also fear that Mel won't be understanding in the least about this situation --- and --- and I can hardly blame her. I truly feel like a villain when it comes to what I am doing to Mel."  
  
"She'll just have to accept it, Niles," Frasier said supportively.  
  
"But don't you see - neither Mel nor Donny did anything wrong," I argued. "Their only crime is that they loved someone."  
  
I hung my head in shame.  
  
"Just don't take any guff from her, brother," Frasier said with a firm grimace.  
  
Before I could rebuttal his comment, Dad came hobbling up and informed us that someone had told him that Mel was up in my room.  
  
I headed up the stairs, with Frasier and Dad trailing closely behind.  
  
The door loomed in front of me. I swallowed hard, whispered, "I love you, Daphne" and knocked gently on the door as I opened it.  
  
"I --- I understand you were looking for me?"  
  
Mel was standing by the window with her back to me when I came in. My words dangled in the air like those clay pigeon targets in a skeet shoot.  
  
"Where --- where have you been," she sputtered out with exasperation. "And  
w-h-y --- why hasn't this --- blasted wedding started yet?"  
  
"Well, the answer to both those questions may be one and the same," I said cryptically. "Mel, I --- I'd like you to sit down, please?"  
  
She gave one last squint out the window at the garden below, perched stiffly on the edge of the bed and focused her "cross-hairs" in my direction with a façade of petulant frostiness.  
  
"Well, what have you got to tell me --- Niles?"  
  
I realized then and there that she knew --- in her heart, she knew.  
  
Oh, she may not of known exactly all the details at that precise moment - I doubt that anyone would have ever been able to guess the entire long tortured history of Daphne and myself - but she had put two and two together and certainly suspected that there was something wrong between her and I and that it somehow was connected with the commotion going on outside our window as we spoke.  
  
I sat down next to her on the bed. I wanted to take her hand, but I knew that once I filled in all the painful particulars, confirming the vague qualms she now felt, very shortly she wouldn't want me touching her.  
  
"Mel, this is difficult for me to say --- but long, long before I met you, I fell in love with someone --- while I was still married to Maris."  
  
I stopped to gather my thoughts - it wasn't easy for me to itemize my failings in such detail - it all sounded so --- so pathetic. I cleared my throat.  
  
"I couldn't --- or rather I never summoned up the courage to tell this woman that I loved her, so we never went any further than friendship for many years. But instead of my feelings disappearing for this woman, they -- - they just grew stronger."  
  
I paused again, waiting for a reaction.  
  
None was forthcoming. Mel's face was a monument to glacial impassiveness.  
  
Her gaze traveled briefly over to the window and then back to me, but any hint of overt emotion was camouflaged behind a solid countenance of stony silence. I could feel my throat constricting, but I plunged ahead anyway - I owed her a proper explanation at least.  
  
"Well, when I was finally divorced from Maris, I thought that I would have a chance to reveal to this woman that I loved her and we would be able to -- - to begin a real relationship. But that wasn't to be, instead I had waited too long and she had finally found another. You --- you have to realize, Mel that I was devastated --- I was a broken man, floundering on the rocks of all my shattered dreams - disconsolate. And then --- then I -- - met you."  
  
I glanced over at her and saw her hand dart up to her eyes, flicking away an errant tear. My soul was filled with pity for her. Always before I was the one on the receiving end of heartache - I knew how destructive it could be to a person's spirit. Now for the first time, I was the one inflicting the injurious blows. I hated myself for the role that I had to play.  
  
"I made a concerted effort to put her out of my mind, tried to deny that I felt anything for her and --- and it worked --- to a degree. I suppressed my feelings for her so well that I sincerely believed I had purged her from my system. I never told you about any of this, well --- because I really didn't think that there was even the slightest chance that things would ever change between her and I. She was gone from my life. I was so sure, so very sure she loved that other man."  
  
I lapsed into silence once more. Mel rose off the bed and walked over to the window again. The wail of an ambulance could be heard in the distance.  
  
Finally she spoke - her voice was ragged and low.  
  
"Was --- was that other man --- Donny?"  
  
"Yes," I simply whispered as I came up close behind her.  
  
"But you were wrong weren't you? You found out that she loved you, after all - not Donny. And you --- you still love her, don't you?"  
  
Now it was my turn to be lost for words. I found myself desperately wishing that my love for Daphne wasn't the weapon that had injured someone so deeply. My mouth opened to respond to her, but no sound came out.  
  
When Mel didn't get an answer, she wheeled around and confronted me.  
  
"Don't you!" her voice rose as she spoke. "D---Daphne is the woman whom you have l-loved all these years --- and --- and now you know --- that she --- she loves you."  
  
"Yes --- yes, Mel, it's true. Can you see that we didn't plan any of this? B-b-but we can't deny our love to each other any more. It wouldn't be right - for us --- or for you or Donny. Please --- please try and understand."  
  
Did she comprehend? Through all the pain, did she see that I was begging her to release me, both emotionally and legally - so I could be with Daphne? I had to know for sure.  
  
"Mel --- Mel, we need to accept that the best thing all round would be if we just got a divorce. I --- I made a mistake, Mel - not --- not in loving you, but in convincing myself that I didn't love Daphne any more. But I do - I do love Daphne and that will never change. I know now that I will never be complete without her. I'm --- I'm sorry that I dragged you into this --- this little psychodrama of mine. You have to believe me when I say that I never would have done this to you on purpose. If I had only known that she felt the same about me --- none of this would have happened. I realize I did a terrible thing to you --- making you pay for my years of idiocy and cowardice and if I could make this easier for you I would, but -- - but you always said that you wanted me to be honest with you. Well, I am trying to be truthful with you, Mel. To continue with our marriage now would just compound my blunder - it wouldn't make it vanish. I need you to --- to let me go --- please?"  
  
Her face contorted into a taut scowl, but she remained silent. I could see that her hands were clamped into tight, tiny balls by her sides, her knuckles turned whiter with each passing second. This lack of communication was unhealthy - if I could just get her to talk about it, maybe her anger would dissipate and we could deal with this in a more rational manner.  
  
"Mel, did you hear what I just said? Say something --- anything."  
  
Her mouth twitched a couple of times and --- and then she just began to --- to shriek. A blasting shockwave of venomous fury just poured out of her for what seemed like an interminable amount of time.  
  
I tried to calm her down, but the effusion of sound coming from her lips drowned my pleas out. Her screaming tantrum caught me off guard - I stood there stunned, immobilized by it, incapable of stopping her and unable to extract myself from its almost mesmerizing-like power.  
  
I didn't even see her hand coming until it was too late. Her palm made contact with my cheek with such a loud crack that it sounded like a starter's pistol. I reeled back slightly from the staggering blow. I could feel the stinging imprint of her ring on my flesh.  
  
"Who are YOU? Who --- who are you that you could do this --- this to - to ME!"  
  
A rainbow of little stars flitted in and out of my range of vision as I looked at her increasingly reddening face.  
  
"You gutless monster! You spineless, pathetic fiend! You --- you cruel --- whoring BASTARD!!"  
  
"Mel -"  
  
"SHUT UP! Don't say another word!"  
  
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. I waited - I felt completely at her mercy, defenseless against any retribution that she might have in store for me. I knew this was the price I had to pay to be absolved of my guilt for hurting her.  
  
When she spoke again her voice had a sharp, flinty sound.  
  
"You've said your piece and now it's my turn. You betrayed me, Niles. I loved you --- I trusted you, I opened myself up to you and this --- this is how you repay me? With duplicity! With treachery! By running off with one of your brother's in-house staff --- a common servant for God's sake!"  
  
I winced. She could say anything she liked about me, but her astringent reference to Daphne cut to the quick.  
  
"I'm leaving immediately, Niles --- and I'm going back to Seattle. I --- I need time --- time to think, about how all of this is going to play out, but you'll be hearing from me very soon - don't you worry! Now, get - out - of - my - WAY!"  
  
She pushed past me and grabbed her suitcase. After flinging her clothes into her overnight bag, she stormed out of the room. There was a humming noise in my ears and my knees began to buckle, so I retreated to a chair before I blacked out completely. Frasier and Dad rushed in and, I'd say by the looks on their faces, it was a safe bet that they fully expected to see my various body parts strewn haphazardly about the room.  
  
"She --- she's gone," I gasped, trying to regain my composure quickly. "I thought it went --- remarkably well, actually."  
  
Dad reached out and grazed his finger across my cheek. The outline of Mel's handprint was still faintly visible.  
  
"Yeah, really well. If it had gone any better --- you wouldn't have your head attached still."  
  
I ignored his sardonic analysis and stood up to greet my anxious brother.  
  
"You were right, Frasier. The worst is over. I think once Mel calms down she --- she and I will be able to handle this like reasonable adults."  
  
"Now, who's the one who doesn't know Mel so well?" he muttered under his breath.  
  
I decided to let that remark go by too. I didn't want them thinking that I was incapable of going through with this. I had to appear in control, above the fray, even if I was absolutely terrified at what Mel had in store for me in the near future. No one must know, not Frasier, not Dad and especially not -  
  
"Daphne!"  
  
I turned promptly around and rushed over to her once I recognized her footsteps.  
  
We fell into each other's arms and I gave her a kiss that made the one on the balcony the night before seem like a --- a polite peck on the cheek. I was so glad to see her I forgot about Frasier and Dad gawking at us, I didn't care one whit about demonstrating any type of restraint or subtlety --- I just wanted her lips on mine, to taste her in my mouth and to feel --- feel loved again.  
  
When we finally broke apart, we were alone.  
  
We sat down and talked, relating our respective ordeals and --- we kissed and then --- then we kissed some more.  
  
I wanted to stay in that room with her for forever!  
  
But reality interceded and before long we had to pack things up and head back to Seattle. When we finally arrived at Frasier's apartment, I was about to ask Daphne if she would like to come with me to the Montana, but before I could bat an eyelash she gave me a demure kiss good-bye, whispered "I'll see you tomorrow," and was out of the car.  
  
Initially I thought it was just that she was mentally and physically exhausted after all that had happened to us and wanted some time to relax. But sitting here now, reflecting on various matters, I realize that she is probably a bit tentative about pushing our newfound relationship ahead too rapidly.  
  
I think I have to be careful about that too.  
  
I have had time - seven very long years to picture what I want when it comes to Daphne. I want to make mad, passionate love to her, carry her over the threshold of the Montana as my bride and raise a family with her. And why not? She is my goddess - my perfect woman and now --- now finally my dreams have become an actuality! For her it is entirely different. This a fresh experience for Daphne. Viewing me through romantic --- and sexual eyes is a whole new occurrence for her. Tomorrow morning when I see her, one of the first things I'll do is reassure her that we can take it slowly if she likes --- I think she would be more comfortable with that approach. Even though I have waited sooooo long for this - I can wait a bit longer. I'll do anything she wants. If she wants it chaste until after my divorce and things are settled with Donny - that's what I'll do. If she wants to remain living at Frasier's for a while - that's fine too. No sacrifice is too great, no request from her lips too unreasonable - just so long as I can be with her, by her side and feel her hand in mine --- kiss her lips and tell her I love her.  
  
That is what is really important for right now.  
  
The rest --- will come all in due time.  
  
Tonight --- tonight I'll stare up at the stars and think of my beautiful, beautiful Daphne and know that I am the luckiest man in the world.  
  
Adieu.  
  
Stay tuned for Part 20 (to be continued) 


	20. Chapt 20: Dominatrix Reloaded

Just One Look  
  
By Valma  
  
Part 20 : Dominatrix Reloaded  
  
Daphne's Diary:  
  
Dear Diary,  
  
He called me tonight.  
  
He called --- and I pretended I was sleeping.  
  
I knew it was Niles the second the phone rang, just slightly after 11:30.  
  
But I didn't talk to him - I know I should have, but I just couldn't.  
  
And now here I am trying to figure out why.  
  
I had a feeling that this night was going to turn out badly right from the moment that he cancelled our evening out in order to attend a phony wedding reception for Mel and him.  
  
And to tell you the truth, I wasn't surprised one little bit that he rang me up after he was done playing "The Happy Couple" with Mel - he knew that I wasn't thrilled with the "rain check" on our date. But it wasn't anger that led me to not talk to him. It was something else --- something scarier than me just being in a tearful snit about the rescheduling ---  
  
Martin and Frasier were only home a little while when the call came through. I could hear the good doctor as they came in muttering about "what a fiasco the evening had been" and how it was "just like Mel to try and humiliate someone with an audience looking on". Within minutes Martin headed off towards his bedroom, declaring that he was never going to be roped into attending another event like that even if Niles begged him.  
  
In the dim privacy of my room I couldn't help but feel a little bit vindicated. At least I wasn't alone in my suffering tonight. I guess it is true - misery does like company.  
  
I heard Frasier mutter a "Good night, Dad" and settle in to unwind to the soothing strains of one of his classical CDs and no doubt a glass of some overpriced liqueur.  
  
I was just about to casually trot out and probe him for further details, under the pretext that their arrival had woke me up, when the familiar jangle of the phone stopped me dead in my tracks. I can't quite explain even now what made me decide to spy rather than just keep on going out into the living room.  
  
I paused and held my breath expectantly until I heard the click of the phone being picked up.  
  
Frasier's rumbling voice carried clearly across the apartment, even though he was trying to be quiet. I crept out of my room and took up a position deep in the shadows of the hallway.  
  
"I think she's asleep, Niles. No --- no, I'm pretty sure she wasn't up when we got home."  
  
I bit my lip and slumped down until I was scrunched up in a tight ball on the carpet. I had been careful to clean up any signs of my earlier crying session in the living room when I retreated to my bedroom to sob into my pillow after Simon staggered back to the Winnebago.  
  
"Niles, Niles --- stop! We already explained to her why you had to do it. I'm sure she knows that you didn't really want to go tonight. She loves you Niles - you know she does. Why else would she have left Donny?"  
  
I wiped away a stale tear from my cheek as a fresh one began to form. How could he be so insecure and yet so doggedly determined at the same time?  
  
There were mysterious depths to this man that I'm sure will take years to figure out.  
  
"I know --- I know that kiss was just for show. No --- no, I am definitely not going to mention it to Daphne! Stop worrying, Niles!"  
  
Kiss?  
  
He kissed her?  
  
Of course he kissed her - it was their "wedding reception", after all. What type of a celebration of their nuptials would it be if the groom didn't even kiss the bride? People would talk, right?  
  
And that what was it was all about - it was just a act, put on because Mel had insisted that he pretend to be still happily wedded to her for a couple of weeks so she could bow out of their marriage gracefully without losing any of her precious "social standing" among her crowd. How had Frasier put it? This had to be done to give Mel a little "wiggle room". But even knowing it was a sham, the thought of his lips on hers --- I felt sick.  
  
A shiver swept through me even though I sweating like a pig being roasted over open coals on a spit.  
  
Was this really just a fake kiss done for the benefit of the well-wishers or was it Mel's opening salvo in her threatened war against me? Was she trying to stir up Niles' emotions and lure him back to her?  
  
I leaned forward, sucked in a short breath of air and tried to refocus on what Frasier was saying.  
  
"All right, all right! Just try some deep breathing exercises and I'll go check and see if Daphne is awake. Just give me a moment to turn the music down!"  
  
I sprang up and fled back to my bed, throwing the covers over me just as the door cracked open and a gash of light pierced the darkness of my room.  
  
"Daphne?"  
  
Frasier sighed.  
  
"Daphne --- are you awake?"  
  
I shut my eyes tight, even though I had my back to him. My heart pounded its way into my mouth.  
  
"Just like I thought - she's asleep, Niles," he hissed into the phone receiver as he closed the door with a decisive snap. "Now will you go to bed? You're going to see her tomorrow anyway and you can talk to her then."  
  
I groped for a tissue in the dark, but didn't dare use it until I was sure, by Frasier's retreating footsteps, that he was out of earshot.  
  
What was wrong with me? Was I actually hiding from the man I love? Why didn't I want to talk to him?  
  
I could hear Frasier in the distance as he irritatedly cut his brother off one last time.  
  
"Good night, Niles! And remember, I'm also involved with this debacle!"  
  
Debacle.  
  
The word sat like a stone in the pit of my stomach.  
  
What had he said earlier?  
  
Oh, yes --- fiasco.  
  
I probably would have chosen a different way of saying it, like --- a bloody balls up mess!  
  
Was that what this was turning into?  
  
It certainly seemed that way.  
  
An inventory of the recent calamities seemed to confirm this conclusion.  
  
Bad enough that Simon was still about, getting under Frasier's skin, mooching off of the generosity of the Cranes, hitting on every female no matter what her age, helping himself to anything within arm's reach including the wedding gifts that I had to return --- but that was just the tip of iceberg!  
  
The real trouble started after I found out this morning that Donny was suing me for everything I have --- and more - for breach of contract. He sent the papers over with a bouquet of Stargazer Lilies right around breakfast time.  
  
Such a nice touch!  
  
I threw the flowers in the trash bin, even though they were lovely. I knew Donny would be upset after I called off the wedding but I didn't think we'd end up in court because of it. Now I will have to get a lawyer and God knows how long this sort of thing will drag on!  
  
But that's not all - Donny's also suing Frasier, for something called tortious interference. My brilliant boss managed to talk his way into legal trouble with Donny when he went over to try and convince him to drop my suit. It was his own damn fault really - couldn't keep his big conk out of my business, but then --- on the other hand, I know he was just trying to be nice and help me, so in a way I am really to blame, I guess.  
  
Two lawsuits, a loafer and more trouble than a basketful of ants at a picnic - that's what I brought home from the Wayside Inn with me!  
  
You know, in spite of all that --- I think I could handle it if --- if Niles had been here with me tonight.  
  
But he wasn't.  
  
It --- it was supposed to be our first official date - a fancy dinner and then dancing at the Starlight. It was meant to be our special night together as a couple - a new beginning for us. Niles sounded so sweet and excited when he asked me to go out with him this morning, nervous as all bloody hell after we had agreed to take things slowly and not rush our relationship along.  
  
Instead he --- he cancelled on me.  
  
He spent the night with Mel at some posh country club, talking to her, standing beside her, being with her - kissing her ---.  
  
He apologized for calling off our evening - more than once. He repeatedly told me how sorry he was that we couldn't go on our date and --- and I believe him.  
  
It's just that --- well, it didn't even seem like he put up an argument about it, or even question her about how she just went ahead and made all these plans and simply expected him to jump to her demands.  
  
So I had to spend the night crying in the arms of my "beer-breath" brother!  
  
Oh, I'm not really complaining about Simon's attempts to comfort me - he did the best he could, but I was expecting to be wined and dined by one of the most sophisticated, genteel men I have ever known - the man who convinced me to call off my wedding and take a chance on our love --- not spending it with someone who's idea of going dancing means that you stuff a wad of bills in a stripper's panties!  
  
I needed Niles to be with me - tonight of all nights, especially!  
  
But where was he?  
  
He was with Mel - his wife, instead.  
  
I was so looking forward to being held in his arms, cradled by his love, as we glided across the dance floor. I needed to peer into his deep, blue eyes and see him gaze back at me with that certain adoring look that only he can give. I longed to feel the tingle of his moist breath on the nape of my neck as he whispered my name repeatedly, as if to reassure me that everything was going to work out and I don't have to be afraid.  
  
But I am afraid.  
  
I'm afraid of Donny's lawsuit and embarrassed to have go up against the man I so callously left at the alter.  
  
I'm afraid that I look like a "Jezebel" - the little trollop that tore apart a pair of perfectly happy newlyweds.  
  
I'm afraid of alienating my friends because of all the hassles that are happening since that fateful decision of mine to step into that Winnebago.  
  
But most of all, I'm afraid --- afraid of what Mel might be doing to Niles.  
  
She's pushing all the right buttons with him - not only playing the wounded victim card for all it's worth, because she can see how guilty he feels about hurting her, but also dangling the promise of a "quickie" divorce in his face if he goes along with this bizarre arrangement of hers! She knows fully well the torture that Maris put him through and how he'll agree to almost anything to avoid that again. She went right for his soft underbelly and got him where he was most vulnerable.  
  
The question is just how vulnerable is he?  
  
I know he loves me - I know that for sure. It's --- it's just that Mel is so crafty and Niles is so trusting and --- and if he only sees poor, wounded Mel and wants to do right by her, then --- where does that leave our relationship?  
  
We have to give this romance a chance to grow - we have to get to know each other as lovers now - not acquaintances, not friends - but lovers. And not from a distance either - but up close, with all our faults and differences in full view. How can we do this if he is off with Mel, soothing her ruffled feathers?  
  
No! I've got to stop this!  
  
I'm just worrying about nothing! It was just one cancelled night. He said that it was just delayed and that we would go out tomorrow.  
  
He promised.  
  
First thing in the morning I'm going out and buy that new dress I saw in the display window at Beekman's - the one with the matching wrap. And I'll get my hair done and my nails and - and a facial! I'll feel like a whole new woman!  
  
I should have talked to him - but what's done is done and maybe it was for the best that I didn't. Tomorrow I'll feel better and when I talk to him face-to-face everything will be all right! We'll go out, we'll have a wonderful time and we'll just put Mel and all those other nagging worries aside for a few hours - just Niles and me. Everything will be fine - I know it will!  
  
I hope ---  
  
Goodnight Diary.  
  
My Journey Through Life - Niles Crane  
  
My hands are shaking so hard I can barely hold the pen as I write this.  
  
Daphne and I have only been together for a grand total of two days and our relationship may already be peril.  
  
What if this is it??  
  
Kaput --- finito --- that's all she wrote?  
  
Oh God!! What have I done?  
  
I think I need a scotch.  
  
I am such an idiot! I don't deserve someone like her.  
  
"You know, if you look at it from Mel's point of view, it really does make a lot of sense."  
  
I actually said that!  
  
I actually said that to Daphne - the woman I love!  
  
Like a blind man unraveling his bandages after a cornea operation, the light of lucidity instantly struck me - I had totally misread her mood and made a monumental blunder. But that instantaneous moment of clarity wasn't enough to save me from plunging over the abyss of my own doom.  
  
It was too late - even though I tried to retract what I had uttered.  
  
She angrily pounced on it right of away, of course. And why shouldn't she? She had a perfect right to!  
  
Upon reflection --- it certainly sounded like I was taking Mel's side.  
  
I begged her to let me take it back - to turn back the hands of time and make amends. But she refused. I had said what I had said, and she was holding me accountable for it.  
  
The subsequent events came in a frightful flurry.  
  
Frasier, with his typical egomaniacal flare, managed to interfere and only make matters worse! Daphne lashed out at everyone - including a parting shot at Dad, who remained characteristically mute throughout the whole wrathful admonishment. She stormed off to her room with a decisive slam of her door, after she declared that she might just have a certain amount of regret about not getting married to Donny.  
  
Needless to say her words clamped an immediate throttlehold on my heart.  
  
I had to gather every ounce of fortitude just to keep from collapsing right there in Frasier's living room. It didn't help matters that while I was fighting back an agonizing queasiness that had overtaken my entire body and soul, my loving brother took it upon himself to start with some stupid, narcissistic ranting about me having to apologize to him!  
  
If Dad hadn't been there I might have been tempted to leap upon his back and administer a two-fisted pummeling like I did when we were working on that book together and he decided to taunt me unmercifully, even though he knew I was stressed to my breaking point! As it was, I just spit out an acerbic retort and left in a huff.  
  
He really can be incredibly selfish sometimes!  
  
I'll --- I'll apologize to him for my barbed comments - later.  
  
Right now I have to figure out some way of salvaging the shredded tatters of my life and repair the damage I may have caused.  
  
I know now that I should have been more aware of the emotions that Daphne was feeling. I should have seen the building pressure - Donny's lawsuit, Simon's "tranquility shattering" presence, Frasier's incessant whining about his lawsuit --- and --- and then along I come and add to her encumbrances and keep canceling our night out on the town!  
  
Is it any wonder that she finally exploded when she heard me say that Mel was only being logical when she asked that Daphne and I not be seen in public together until after the divorce? I have very limited options as far as Mel goes. I have to accede to her requests if I want to be free both legally and --- and morally. I do have Mel's assurance that it will be over in a matter of weeks and I have no reason to doubt her. Her edict is small penance to pay for absolution really.   
  
But I should have explained it better to Daphne - I should have elucidated it with more sensitivity!  
  
Only I didn't!  
  
I "blew it" - plain and simple!  
  
I've never seen her so infuriated. She couldn't even look at me before she stomped off to her room - her chilly remark about getting involved with me still hanging like an icicle in the air.  
  
Oh, God!! What if --- what if she doesn't forgive me?  
  
What if --- what if --- Oh, God!  
  
Air.  
  
I've got --- got to get some air!  
  
Have I actually taken the only opportunity I've had in my wretched existence for true love and happiness and catapulted it out of my life? All because of one careless, tactless sentence?  
  
D-d-does she really regret --- regret not marrying Donny?  
  
I can't --- I can't breathe!  
  
I think --- I think I'm going to be sick ---  
  
Addendum:  
  
As I genuflected in front of the wastebasket beside my desk, nauseous from the vapors of my own vomitus, I gradually became aware, even though the buzzing in my ears just about obliterated it, that the phone was ringing. It took me a minute or two to collect myself enough to answer it with the minimal amount of dignity required, but I was actually pleased to find that it was Dad on the other end, asking me if I would like to join him for an evening out at the Natural History Museum.  
  
I know he was just trying to be nice - endeavoring to distract me from wallowing in my misery and panic. I'm certain that was his motivation, because I used to do the same for him - back when he and mom used to have their --- disagreements. Even though they loved each other dearly there were times that they would have titanic squabbles. It would usually end with mom getting out the cleaning paraphernalia and scrubbing the kitchen floor. Dad would know enough that signaled an impasse and retreat to the front stoop to put some distance between the two of them.  
  
Frasier and I would take turns trying to speed up the healing between the warring factions, like junior diplomats at a peace conference. If it was my turn, I would first head for mom, standing in the archway between the kitchen and the living room, just staring at her as she scoured the yellow wax off the garish linoleum tiles. Eventually I'd inquire as to if she needed some assistance and she would invariably glance up, and seeing my anxious countenance, stop long enough to assure me that she was fine and that I should just leave her be for a while. With one last look at my mother purging not only the germs from our environment, but also all her pent up frustrations as well, I knew that my services would be of more benefit elsewhere.  
  
I would find Dad, cigarette dangling from his lips, surrounded in a haze of grayish-blue smoke, slumped in the rocker chair on the porch, starring out at the flickering street light in front of our house. It was strange - for all of my filial fear of my father when I was growing up, the sight of him after having a fight with mom, never failed to bring about anything except an outpouring of complete and unadulterated pity from me. He was always so distraught if he thought mother was angry with him that he was like a shipwrecked sailor floundering on the stormy seas. I however, had cleverly concocted some sure-fire methods to rescue him from his melancholy frame of mind.   
  
I would sit down beside him, struggling to keep my breathing to a minimum as to avoid inhaling the cancerous cloud circling his head, and casually entreat him to aid me with some project that I knew that he excelled at. Sometimes it was practicing catching some sort of ball, sometimes it was fixing something, like one of my musical instruments, or if I was really desperate, I would ask him to tell me about his war experiences in Korea - but always it was something that he was interested in, not me.  
  
That was the key.  
  
Hence, I knew immediately when he suggested the museum that it was for my benefit only - his way of getting me out of my Daphne-induced depression. A repaying of an old debt, for all the times in my youth that I had assisted him out of his desolate disposition when mom was upset with him.  
  
That's my dad - at his fatherly best, when I need his support the most.  
  
And so now I will clean myself up, gargle and go along with him in appreciation of his thoughtfulness, even though I really feel like hiding under the piano or drinking myself into a stupor the entire evening.  
  
I'll do it because --- I know Dad understands.   
  
He fell in love with his perfect woman too. And for men like us it is especially painful when things go awry. We can't really exist without the sustenance of our love's affections. Their smiles make us stronger.   
  
Besides maybe, just maybe, I might run into Daphne when I pick Dad up at Frasier's and be given an opportunity to beseech her forgiveness of me and plead for a reprieve.  
  
It's a shot in the dark, but it gives me something to look forward to at least.   
  
Wish me luck.  
  
Adieu.  
  
Stay tuned for Part 21 (to be continued) 


	21. Chapt 21: Some Enchanted Evening

Just One Look  
  
By Valma  
  
Part 21: Some Enchanted Evening  
  
Daphne's Diary:  
  
Dear Diary,  
  
Heaven - that's what tonight was.  
  
I was in absolute heaven --- with my angel --- my Niles.  
  
His kisses lingering on my lips. The presence of his cologne on my clothes. His eyes gazing at me from across the table. His soft words falling on my ears. The tingle I felt on my back when his loving hands drew me up close to him, as we danced the night away under the stars.  
  
Funny - it started out to be one of the worst days I have ever had.  
  
He came over in the mid-morning and while he proceeded to tell me about his "Average Night in Hell" of a wedding reception, all of a sudden I just snapped. I think what did it was when he told me that Mel had decided that he wouldn't be allowed to go out with me in public because of her little farcical marital arrangement.  
  
I was still on a pretty wonky emotional footing after he cancelled our dinner date the day before and when I heard that proclamation and - well, that just tore it! The next thing I knew I was marching off cursing the day we met, flinging insults around like grenades and wondering if this whole mess was worth all the trouble.  
  
By the time I calmed down and came out of my room Niles had left, but I did manage to stumble out an "I'm sorry" to Frasier for biting his head off. He graciously offered to take me out for dinner - a rubber bone to a starving dog really, but still a nice gesture, which I fully appreciated, especially after Simon came along shortly after and, in his own unique way, informed me that he would be parking his arse on the couch all evening and was expecting me to make him dinner.  
  
I figured if I went out with Frasier at least my day of beauty at La Belle Jour that I had booked in eager anticipation of tonight's promised events wouldn't go completely to waste. And spending an evening with Frasier was definitely preferable to hanging around the apartment with my lout of a brother.  
  
When I got back from the spa, I checked my phone for messages, hoping to find something from Niles - a "Please call" or even the dreaded "Can we talk?".  
  
Nothing.  
  
I wondered if I had I gone to far with my earlier tantrum?  
  
The next few hours were spent pacing back and forth in my room riding an emotional roller coaster of flashes of anger mixed with fretful tears. I must have stood in front of my dresser mirror and demanded a dozen times to an invisible Niles that he stand up to Mel and tell her to stuff her face- saving pact up her bum, only to end this well-rehearsed rant with a weepy apology for saying such dreadful things to him this morning.  
  
About 7:00, Frasier quietly knocked on my bedroom door and asked if he could speak to me.  
  
"Please don't say that you are going to have to cancel our dinner together," I cautioned, as I let him in. "If you do, you just might have to talk me off the window ledge as well."  
  
"No, no, it's nothing like that, Daphne," Frasier quickly reassured me. "In fact, ummm, the change in plans that I had in mind might actually ease your anxiety quite a bit."  
  
I sat down on the bed and folded my hands in my lap. Frasier sat down beside me and took one of my hands in his.  
  
"There's nothing in this entire world he wouldn't do for you, you know."  
  
I nodded my head silently. I knew if I had tried to speak I would have burst like a leaky faucet.  
  
"But it's not easy for him. Most of the women in Niles' life have been - " Frasier paused a moment as he searched for the right term. "Well, I guess you could say they have been emotionally distant, in varying degrees. It's a bit daunting I suppose, for him to have someone love him back unconditionally."  
  
"I just want a chance to --- to get to know him," I blurted out. "I --- I mean really know him."  
  
Frasier smiled. He looked down at his shoes.  
  
I blushed and bumbled on, "I --- I mean I do know him, but --- but this is different. And --- and it isn't just about --- you know --- s-s-ex - it's more than that. This thing with Mel is just crowding in on any opportunity for us to be together. It's just so frustrating!"  
  
"Well, I think I have a solution," Frasier interrupted. "Instead of us going out to dinner, what would you say to a bit of catering and subterfuge?"  
  
I looked at him with puzzlement.  
  
He proceeded to explain that Martin had devised a plan to bring Niles over to the apartment, while he had arranged for the caterers at Au Pied du Cochon to set up a gourmet meal for two on the roof of the Elliot Bay Towers.  
  
"What if he won't go for it?" I asked nervously. "I might have hurt him pretty badly with that crack about marrying Donny."  
  
"Daphne, I know my brother," Frasier said with a caring chuckle. "He has obsessed about you since the day he met you - he isn't going to let one little comment sway his passion for you."  
  
I felt a flush of color overtake my cheeks again.  
  
"Since the day we met, you say?"  
  
"Right from the beginning," he assured me. "It took him a long time to define those feelings to anyone, including himself, but I distinctly remember him telling me about a year after you came to work for us, that you stirred a fervor in him that he had never known before. He called you a goddess, for goodness sakes."  
  
"A --- goddess? Me?" I said in true disbelief. "That's a pretty high pedestal to be placed on. A goddess --- I know you said he had a crush on me, but - a goddess? He really is amazing. He was always a perfect gentleman. He hid it well. Or was I just really that stupid? So much wasted time --- if I had only known --- "  
  
I trailed off with a sigh.  
  
Frasier wrapped his solid arms around me and gave me a squeeze.  
  
"Things have a way of working out anyway, if they are meant to be in the first place, Daphne."  
  
"That almost sounds like you believe in fate, Dr. Crane," I chirped with a hint of smugness. "I thought learned men like you didn't put any value in such notions like destiny and the foretelling of things that have already been decided."  
  
"Some things are just a sure bet."  
  
He leaned over and gave me a kiss on my forehead.  
  
"Ready to go? Your "Prince Charming" will be here soon."  
  
I stood up and smoothed my dress.  
  
"How do I look?"  
  
Frasier locked elbows with me and laughed.  
  
"Like --- Venus herself," he replied.  
  
We made our way up to the roof. The air was warm and a slight breeze added just the right touch of freshness to the night.  
  
Frasier had outdone himself. The setting was completely elegant - crisp linens, sparkling crystal, fine china, and a bottle of bubbly chilling in a bucket on the side. To top things off the whole scene was bathed in a wash of candles and flowers. Frasier pulled out a chair on the far side of the table.  
  
"Your seat is here, so that the first thing he sees as he comes around the corner is you."  
  
I gave him a glance of anxious anticipation.  
  
"When do you think he'll be here?" I questioned.  
  
"Pretty soon. Don't worry - everything will be all right."  
  
"I do love him, you know. With --- with all my heart - but it's all so new to me."  
  
"I know, I know. And what's more important - so does Niles."  
  
Sometimes --- sometimes it was easy to see that they were brothers.  
  
Suddenly Martin's familiar voice could be heard as the heavy access door opened with a momentous click.  
  
"Come on, come on up here," the old man gently prodded.  
  
I could hear Niles, protesting mildly, as he slowly made his way up to the top of the stairs, until he was standing just beyond my line of vision behind the door.  
  
My heart was pounding so hard it seemed like someone was thumping me on my chest. What if he felt pressured by this, albeit well intentioned, but interfering ploy and decided to bolt? What if he wasn't ready to speak to me after what had passed between us earlier?  
  
"Dad, I don't think I handled things very well today," Niles said, his voice cracking with emotion. "Do you think Daphne will ever forgive me?"  
  
I almost cried out "Of course I will - you silly sausage!" but a cautionary touch on my shoulder by Frasier stopped me in my tracks.  
  
"Why don't you ask her for yourself?" Martin said with a dramatic flourish, as he stepped back to make room for Niles to advance.  
  
I felt a kindling blush spread over my entire body as the first sight of his blond hair came into view. The moroseness in his eyes vanished immediately as he stared out on the starry scene before him. A look of absolute wonderment lit up his face.  
  
I held my breath and slowly --- very slowly, a relieved smile edged its way out of my heart. Niles took a tentative step forward.  
  
A soft, lilting tune started to play somewhere in the background. It was Frasier who finally broke the aura of astonishment.  
  
"Your table is ready, sir."  
  
Niles gradually made his way across the rooftop, his eyes riveted on me the whole time.  
  
"You --- look --- stunning," he gasped.  
  
With those words he slew the dragon of all my fears - my very own dashing Prince Charming indeed.  
  
Before long Frasier and Martin had graciously departed, leaving us alone beneath a canopy of stars.  
  
Just the two of us.  
  
Finally.  
  
"Daphne, about today --- "  
  
I could feel the burden of self-reproach in his voice.  
  
Did he think that he had to take on the entire fault for what had happened between us previously?  
  
Unconditional love - that's what he needed. Frasier was right. I had to make it clear to him that he didn't have to jump through any hoops to regain my favor. We both had contributed to this morning's blow-up. We both were equally to blame.  
  
"Let's just forget about that," I said reassuringly. "Why don't we start from here?"  
  
A sigh of relief escaped from his lips.  
  
I could see how my words buoyed his spirits.  
  
"I would love that. To us!"  
  
Niles lifted his champagne flute.  
  
A toast to our new beginning - I was tingling with excitement.  
  
"To us," I repeated as we chimed the edges of the glasses together and sipped a mouthful of fizz.  
  
As if on cue, we both rose up and smoothly came to together, our lips meeting with only the lightest of pressure as we kissed. It was like a brush of an angel's wing against my mouth.  
  
I suddenly could see myself, years in the future, looking back on this occasion - remembering the intensity of the love that I feel for him and wondering if my heart would be able to take it all in without bursting.  
  
All my doubts were gone.  
  
Mel certainly didn't matter. Simon, the lawsuits, all the fussing and hassles - they all seemed so small and insignificant. Whatever I did or didn't do in the past didn't count now.  
  
Now --- tonight, there was just Niles and me --- and we were in love.  
  
It was like I had been waiting for this moment all my life.  
  
"I'm usually so nervous on a first date," I said quietly. "But not tonight."  
  
There was an easiness about this evening that belied its profound importance to me.  
  
He invited me to dance and I eagerly accepted. I felt like I was floating on air as we made our way onto the makeshift dance floor. Niles gathered me in his arms, his warm hands tenderly caressing my bare back.  
  
A look of sheer giddiness came over him.  
  
"So where you from?" he asked playfully.  
  
An introduction was obviously in order.  
  
"Manchester, England," I said noticing the glint in his eye.  
  
"Oh, my. Big family?" he continued, as we swayed back and forth to the music.  
  
I had never really seen this mischievous side of his nature before.  
  
I liked the fact that I was surprised.  
  
"Hideously."  
  
I decided to pick up on his lighthearted mood.  
  
"And you?"  
  
"I'm from a small mountain village in Tibet," he said, planting his tongue firmly in his cheek.  
  
I giggled.  
  
He pressed his face up against mine. Every fiber of his body told me that he was enjoying this as much as I was.  
  
"Tenzing Norgay used to carry me to school."  
  
Only Niles Crane could say a thing like that and make me laugh out loud.  
  
I love this man so much!  
  
In some respects he really was like someone who I had never met before. Some things about him were so new and exciting to me - the unexplored territory of his personality that I would now be able to discover, as our relationship grew deeper.  
  
Yet at the same time, I had this overwhelming sense of comfort when I was around him. I knew I could trust him. I knew I could come to him if ever I needed someone and he would be there for me - like he always has been --- all these years.  
  
I nuzzled my head into the crook of his neck.  
  
"You know what I've always wondered?" he whispered.  
  
I let out the kind of sigh that you do when you finally get home after having been away for a long time - one of contentment and feeling secure.  
  
"I think I can guess." I said dreamily, with a certain amount of satisfaction.  
  
"Yeah," he replied. "You would - being clairvoyant and all. That's an unfair advantage you know."  
  
I chuckled softly.  
  
"Just tell me, Niles Crane --- what have you always wondered?"  
  
A strange look came over his face. I couldn't figure out exactly where this was heading.  
  
"Well, I've always wondered if you - you think that I would look good in a red bow tie?"  
  
I leaned back slightly. I hadn't been expecting that question.  
  
"A red bow tie? Niles, don't be silly - you don't even own a bow tie, let alone a red one."  
  
He winced like I had just stepped on his foot. Our waltz came to a sudden halt.  
  
"Well, I didn't own one - until --- until you told me about your vision," he sputtered. "You know --- the vision about who you were truly meant to be with. Then - then I ran right out and bought one that very night. I wanted so much to - to be that m-m-man."  
  
I wondered what insecurity in him had brought up that memory? Could it be that my careless words from this morning were still preying on his mind?  
  
I tried to hold on to the joviality of the evening by smiling sweetly and giving him a saucy peck on the cheek.  
  
"That doesn't matter," I said quickly hoping to diffuse any clouds on tonight's happy horizon. "You're still the man of my dreams."  
  
My little diversion didn't work. His eyes grew wider as he forced the words out of his mouth.  
  
"I had every intention of putting it on. I wanted to prove to you - convince you that I was the one - the one you should be with. But Frasier wouldn't let me wear it in front of you that --- that night."  
  
He paused and a far away look of remembrance came over him.  
  
"Even though I took it off, I - I - I still have it --- tucked away in a drawer. I guess you could say I just never --- never wanted to entirely give up hoping, even back then."  
  
My heart ached just a bit - it was awe-inspiring to think of his complete devotion to the idea that we were meant to be together, in spite of such overwhelming odds against us at that time.  
  
He closed his eyes for a fraction of a second as he fell silent and gave my hand a slight squeeze.  
  
"I've waited so long to be with you - the thought of losing you now makes me so frightened, Daphne."  
  
"Niles, I love you," I murmured into his ear. "I'm so sorry I made that remark this morning about marrying Donny. I didn't mean a word of it. There isn't a minute I regret about the outcome of what happened at the Wayside Inn. You're the only one I want to be with. The only one."  
  
He hugged me tightly. I could feel the tension seep out of his body.  
  
"I want every night to be like this one," Niles said reverently. "You deserve it. A perfect night, for a perfect woman."  
  
"You're so sweet, but I'm far from perfect, Niles," I countered.  
  
"You're perfection to me."  
  
It was all very flattering, but also a bit disconcerting as well. It didn't allow room for many mistakes and Lord knows I could make some doozies.  
  
"Maybe --- maybe we should eat, Niles," I said tactfully. "Your brother went to a lot of trouble and it would be a shame for this delicious meal to go cold."  
  
He followed me like a lost puppy to the table.  
  
"So, the red bow tie - what do you think it means?" he said tenaciously as he sat down and smoothed his napkin out of its folds.  
  
"Well, sometimes visions are more symbolic," I explained patiently. "The red bow tie could have stood for something else. Something that had happened to you in the past - some significant event in your life. Were you ever injured in your neck or chest region?"  
  
He shook his head no and poked at the food on his plate.  
  
"Well, maybe it means something else - like something that will happen to you in the future."  
  
"Something good --- or something bad?" he asked as a wrinkle spread across his forehead.  
  
"Hard to say - sometimes the most frightful images can mean the best things. Like dragons - usually pretty scary monsters - right?" I put forward thoughtfully. "Not something you would associate with love and devotion?"  
  
It thrilled me the way he leaned in towards me, intently focused on what I had to say. No one else had ever listened to me so carefully before. Even if he thought my ideas were complete nonsense, I appreciated his interest.  
  
"Fafnir from Wagner's 'The Ring of the Nibelung' is the only one I am truly familiar with," Niles said. "And yes, he was exceedingly frightful and very treacherous."  
  
I smiled. Where as I would have thought of Puff at the mention of dragons, leave it to Niles to think of a dragon linked with an opera to come to mind first off. I could see where we both would benefit from learning from each other.  
  
"Well, after I had my revelation about the red bow tie, I also had a second vision, later that night, about my mystery man holding a dragon and - "  
  
Niles dropped his fork with a clatter on the plate. His eyebrow arched upward as his mouth gapped open like he had been punched in the stomach.  
  
"H-h-holding a d-d-draaagon?" he wheezed.  
  
I jumped up and flew to his side.   
  
"Niles! What's the matter? Are you choking?"   
  
I took up my Heimlich maneuver posture behind him just, in case.   
  
He waved my help off and explained.  
  
"I'm all right, Daphne - really. It's - it's just --- I received a dragon as a gift that very night!"  
  
"What?"  
  
"It's true - Roz gave me a statue of a dragon for helping her get Alice into St. Anne's Preschool Academy. I've got the hideous thing stashed somewhere in the house. This is an absolutely remarkable coincidence!"  
  
"Coincidence? Niles, don't you realise the implication of this? It means we were fated to come together - everything that has happened to us was supposed to! It was written in the stars."  
  
Niles looked towards the heavens as he rose out of his chair. He came around to the other side of the table and stood beside me.  
  
"Yes, I see that," he said with a mocking tone of gravity as he pointed upward. "Right --- there!"  
  
My eyes followed his outstretched finger automatically.  
  
The next thing I felt were his supple lips on my yielding mouth.  
  
He was soooo delicious, yet ---  
  
"You're just full of surprises tonight," I said with a knowing smile as I guided him back to his side of the table. "But you promised to take things slowly, so sit down and talk to me."  
  
"Can't blame a chap for trying, can you?" he said with a naughty expression on his face. "What would you like to talk about?"  
  
"Tell me --- tell me - everything."  
  
And so for the next few hours he regaled me with stories of all sorts. Of how he felt when he first set eyes on me, or about the time he had spent thinking up increasingly silly excuses of why he should be coming over to Frasier's so much. He detailed the ways he devised to get close enough to smell my hair. He told me about how he got terribly drunk after I decided not to spend the night with him when I had my argument with Sherry.  
  
I told him about how I found out about his feelings for me and how I had secretly kissed him the night we had made dinner together.  
  
I think that thrilled him the most. His eyebrow nearly disappeared at that little revelation.  
  
"That's why I had such delicious dreams for weeks after that," he said perceptively.  
  
"Speaking of dreams," I responded. "I think we should say goodnight so that I can press this night in my memory book."  
  
He almost looked like he was about to protest, but didn't. He just shyly folded his napkin and accepted my decision with all the abundant charm he possessed.  
  
We made our way down to the ninteenth floor, silently holding each other's hands like two school children. All the way down in the lift he kept rubbing my fingers between his, as if to reassure himself that I was really there and that the evening had really happened.  
  
I gave him a discreet kiss at the door of the apartment and asked him if he wanted to come in for a nightcap, but he declined.  
  
"If Frasier or Dad are still up and we run into them --- then they would be part of the last memory I would have tonight. I'd rather have just your lovely face imprinted in my mind - my flawless Aphrodite. A better thing to fall to sleep to."  
  
Like I said - charming. And loving. And kind. And --- just Niles.  
  
My Niles.  
  
Good night Diary.  
  
*  
  
*  
  
*  
  
*  
  
*  
  
*  
  
My Journey Through Life - Niles Crane  
  
I am so purely happy tonight that I don't think any words that I could say would ever truly equal the feelings that I experienced this evening.  
  
Maybe except to say - I love Daphne Moon!  
  
I love my brother and my father.  
  
I love lingonberry sauce and champagne.  
  
I love dancing in the starlight.  
  
I love pygmies and Sherpas.  
  
I love bow ties and dragons.  
  
I love Seattle and Britain.  
  
I love the entire world tonight.  
  
But most of all, I love Daphne!  
  
Adieu.  
  
I have drunken deep of joy,  
  
And I will taste no other wine to-night.  
  
- Percy Bysshe Shelley.  
  
Stay tuned for Part 22 (to be continued) 


	22. Chapter 22: A Mel of a Time

Just One Look

By Valma

Part 22: A "Mel" of a Time

My Journey Through Life – Niles Crane

Omnia Vincit Amor – well at least I hope it does.

Because if love doesn't "conquer all" – then each and every one of the current trials and tribulations that I now find myself having to endure may be for nothing.

There is actually a contradictory quality to my life at the moment.

On one hand, I have Daphne in my life now. It wasn't so long ago that I never dreamed of ever being able to say this. She seemed so unattainable, so completely beyond my reach that I didn't dare even entertain the merest soupçon of a notion that this was possible.

So how could I be anything except utterly and unequivocally happy?

Well, I will tell you how in one word – Mel.

Mel… what can I say except that she continues, with each passing day to become ever more spiteful and increasingly more inventive in her ways to extract her own personal brand of vengeance from my miserable carcass.

Can I blame her?

Not really.

I truly believe that this is the penitence I must do to atone for the moral wrong that I unwittingly perpetrated on her.

And so I am determined to ride the storm of Mel's fury and reprisals and see it through to the bitter end no matter what she throws in my direction. It is the cost I must pay for my ultimate bliss.

I only wish is that I can shield Daphne from any unwarranted suffering.

She continues to be everlasting in her beauty and grace, trying to understand my morose behavior as of late and forever a vision of love for me to find refuge in.

She in one word – perfect. For me to deserve her perfection I have to take my comeuppance from Mel in any fashion she sees fit to dole out. Once I do this I will be free – free to be with Daphne with a clear conscience.

But I can't write any more now – too exhausted to even keep the pen in my hand.

Let those who have deserved their punishment, bear it patiently.  
Aequo animo poenam, qui meruere, ferant.  
- Ovid (Publius Ovidius Naso), _Amorum_ (II, 7, 12)

Adieu.

Daphne's Diary:

Damn that Mel!

I'm so sick of that – that woman --- that bitch!

I always suspected that she wasn't going to be totally happy until Niles was an absolute wreck – but now I know I'm right!

Oooohhh, yes --- at first she claimed that she just wanted him to play the dutiful husband for a couple of weeks so that she could quietly end their charade of a marriage without embarrassing herself among her snooty friends.

A couple of weeks – my arse! That - that was over a month ago and there's still no divorce in sight! She hasn't even filed yet!

Now she's cooked up a whole new set of conditions that she said he would have to bow to before she would even consider setting him free. She wasn't satisfied any longer just to hog all of Niles' spare time; insisting that he couldn't be seen with me in public, flaunting him like some prized performer at a dog-and-pony show – now... now there are more demands --- and she's insisting there's a totally different spin on things.

She calls it "Phase Two".

What that really means is that she's decided that Niles has to be branded the villain of their marriage in front of Seattle's entire high-society crowd. It's no longer good enough that things are done quietly, now she wants a public shaming.

What's next – putting him in a pillory in Pike Place Market so the tourists can throw tomatoes at him, just because we fell in love?

It's like a bloody soap opera!

I can't believe he agreed to this arrangement! He should have told her "Bollocks to that!" and went to see his lawyer.

But he didn't.

Instead, over the past few weeks, he has had to take her to various upper crust functions or show up at her assorted soirées, where I expect she has probably tried to disgrace him thoroughly.

I'm not sure exactly what is going on, but I know it must be pretty bad – he won't talk about it when we are together.

I purposely haven't pushed him for any of the gory details. I don't want to add to the torture Mel is already dragging him through. I do know he is humiliated by what he is being forced to do because just the retelling is pure agony for him. He gets this painful look in his eye that is almost pitiful whenever he has just come back from seeing her – a silent but unmistakable plea for me not to ask too many questions.

So I just let it be.

I understand why he doesn't want to talk about this. I really do.

But what I really can't figure out is --- why doesn't he just stand up to her?

Why?

He keeps bringing up Maris and the ordeal that she put him through and – and says he's trying to avoid that. But he did eventually deal with her – he made it clear to her that he was going through with the divorce.

What makes this time so different?

He still insists to me that Mel is going to keep her word and give him the painless divorce that she originally promised him, if he would go along with this shameful circus act.

He can't possibly believe that in his heart of hearts --- can he?

Could he be that naïve – to trust in the milk of her human kindness and sense of fair play?

Or maybe he thinks that she will soon tire of the whole situation and just give up and grant him a divorce?

You know what I think?

I bet she's just getting started! If he somehow weathers these new indignities she will concoct something else - something even more cruel and degrading to put him through. God knows what she'll dream up. If he doesn't put an end to this shortly, she'll just work herself into a frenzy of revenge, tearing him apart, like a shark that smells blood in the water --- until nothing is left of him.

Mel's just messing with his mind - playing on his old insecurities; making sure that his status with the snob gang is threatened, attempting to ruin his reputation about town, demeaning him in front of important people – people whom he has spent years trying to earn respect from.

It's Maris all over again, but only worse because I believe Mel could --- just maybe --- end up destroying our relationship in the bargain. If she gets to him and mashes his confidence and his reputation to bits in the bargain, how can I be sure he will be able to withstand all that pressure? I hardly get a moment alone with him that she isn't ringing him up, demanding that he come to her side so that she can play the put-upon wife to the "Niles the Ogre". What type of an atmosphere is that to start our lives together?

It was bad enough to sit there and watch Maris stomp all over him – back in the days before there was an "us" to worry about. But now it's different – we're together – I see him differently and he sees me… well the same – his "Goddess" and all that, but that's not the point… there's our new relationship at stake and I just can't stand watching it destroyed for her entertainment!

Every time I broach the subject of how much longer this will go on, Niles just bravely smiles, pats my hand and tells me not to worry - says that he is handling it and assures me that it will soon be over and we will be free.

But --- but is he "handling" it?

I really hope so.

I guess for now all I can do is keep my fingers crossed and have faith that he is right and --- and that Mel lives up to her pledge to let him go.

I'll live on that hope for now and try to keep a stiff upper lip for Niles' sake.

G'night Diary

Daphne's Diary:

It's 4:37 a.m. and I can't sleep.

I have avoided sitting down to make this entry in my diary, but I think I will feel better if I struggle through and get what is bothering me out on paper.

This morning I was just leaving a shop on Pike, when I spotted Mel coming out of La Petite Femme Fashions. She was chatting on her cell phone as she pranced down the street – her, with her flawless size two figure, the sharp heels of her pointy little shoes clicking against the pavement and her free hand clutching an extravagant purse.

Well, the sight of her infuriated me so much that I could barely stand it – just seeing her traipsing along like that got me thinking about the torment she has been putting Niles through lately and I was soon spitting like a wet cat.

I found myself following her on an impulse. Like a dog chasing a car, the question was just what did I think that I was going to do when I caught up with her?

Would I challenge her about her drawing out the divorce plans with Niles?

She'd just deny it, if she acknowledged my presence at all.

Maybe I should hurl some pithy remark at her to try and embarrass her the way she has tried to do to Niles?

She's probably much more clever than I could ever be and I'd end up being the one with egg on my face.

How about me just scratching her catty little eyes out!

I'm already facing one lawsuit - I don't think I could afford another --- and a criminal charge of assault to boot.

But I couldn't help myself – I just kept following her, feeling quite like a "Mata Hari".

She finally went into some pricey little café, and after she set her bags down on a seat and hightailed it off to the loo, I discreetly slipped in and sat at a cubicle that was next to hers.

The high-backed benches of the booths allowed me to eavesdrop quite nicely without being spotted.

After a few moments the "Bitch from Mel" returned, she ordered a "skinny" decaff and started dialing some numbers on her cell phone. Nothing exciting at first, just a few calls checking in with her office to see about her schedule for the next day and a couple to friends and acquaintances – chatting about future plans in the upcoming weeks. I was beginning to regret my hasty decision to follow her when suddenly my ears pricked up –

"Niles?" Mel squeaked into the phone, "Not too busy, I hope?"

There was a good lacing of sarcasm in her tone.

"Well, no matter – I'm sure you can always find time for the really important things in life… later," she giggled with a tenseness that tarnished her humour with a rusty spot of cruelty. "Listen – I'm at Le Chat Noir and I'll expect you to make an appearance within the next half hour. Yes, yes, I have invited some of the girls as well – so be prepared for a good showing... I expect you to dish out a heavy portion of debasement on your part. After all, I'm not going to end up

looking like villain in this little scenario. I'm not the one who dumped their newly betrothed mate and ran off with the hired help!"

I grit my teeth.

She never seemed to miss any opportunity to twist the knife in as deeply as she could.

There was a brief moment of silence while Niles reacted to her snide comments, but it didn't last long.

"Well, I really don't care if you're sorry or not! Your apologies are worthless to me now." she said, cutting him off. "You and I have an agreement and if you are even half the gentleman that you seemed to be when I first met you – then you will honor that pact! Don't forget who's the victim here! My only sin was believing you when you called me your Aphrodite and told me we were meant for each other… forever. Remember? Well, I do! And so do you. I'm sure you are still using those same lines on your little English slut… and she's probably believing them, just like I did once – once, before you turned your back on me."

Aphrodite?

Meant for each other?

The sound of Niles' voice saying those very words to me echoed in my head.

I suddenly found myself struggling to breathe.

Was this a pattern of behaviour for Niles?

My mind started to fill with a flood of panicky thoughts.

Maris was once his flawless soul mate… Mel was once his beloved Aphrodite… and I… I am his current perfect Goddess of Love… for now. Would I just be another thorny twig found to be wanting when the blush of a budding romance comes off my rose? How long will it be before I become the imperfect person that Maris and Mel are – when Niles realizes that I'm not the flawless woman he might have built me up to be in his imagination.

I closed my eyes and took a deep gulp of air.

"Are you all right Miss?"

Slowly opening my eyes, I discovered the face of an anxious waiter staring back at me.

Feebly I nodded yes.

"Would you like a glass of water… or something?" he asked.

Mel's screechy voice faded into the din of the restaurant noise as I did my best to regain some composure.

Warily, I cleared my throat and put on my best American accent, "A slice of the chocolate cheesecake and a double English Toffee cappuccino, please."

Perhaps some food would take away this wooziness and help me think a bit more clearly.

As the waiter scurried away on his mission of mercy, I strained forward in my seat just in time to hear Mel wrapping up her conversation with Niles.

"That's better! Now I want you to remember to insult Margie about her weight gain. We all know she looks like a cow lately, but of course I'll leap to her defense – that way only you will appear to be uncouth."

"Here you go miss. I hope it helps you feel better."

The waiter set my order down in front of me and smiled sympathetically.

"Huh, what?" I stammered and then recovering, I quickly asked if he could make the food to go.

"I just realized that I have an appointment to get to." I lied with only a hint of color rising in my cheeks in embarrassment.

He retreated quickly as I continued to try and come to terms with what I had just heard.

I'm not perfect. I'm not a goddess, nor Aphrodite or anything close to being flawless. I know that. And although I am a romantic at heart, I am also a realist. I know that when you are first starting out it is easy to play up the good things about another person in your mind and overlook the things that are less positive. But that doesn't mean that you don't know that they have faults – that they aren't actually perfect. Everyone knows that you love someone despite his or her shortcomings.

Don't they?

But does Niles?

Looking at his track record it seems that he has a tendency to put blinders on when he falls in love. The question is – what will happen when those blinders come off?

Is he capable of loving someone who isn't perfect in his mind?

Or will he find that any blemish is one fault too many.

My thoughts were interrupted as the waiter brought my take away and I paid the bill. Slipping out as quietly as possible, I headed back to Frasier's apartment and managed to work myself into a tizzy during what remained of the day.

So here I am still, wondering - Niles says he loves me, but what does he really love about me?

What do we really have in common? We don't like the same music, books or telly. I'm not as smart as Mel, or as accomplished as her. I haven't got particularly sophisticated tastes in movies or art, like he does. I'm not well traveled. I haven't the community connections that Maris, or Mel, have in high society, which Niles enjoys so much.

So what does he find so attractive about me?

When you cut to the chase there seems it to be only one thing… my looks.

That's the one area that I think I can say that I might have a chance to outdo Mel and definitely can outclass Maris in.

But what if… what if my good looks were gone?

Will he love me when the passing years make them disappear?

Does he love me for who I really am, underneath the pouty lips and silky hair that he sees now, or will he eventually find me just another one of his goddess with clay feet – just like the other "Aphrodites" in his past?

That is the question that scares me… because I'm not sure of the answer.

I know what Niles would say to me now – "Don't be silly, my love. I adore you and always will."

But he's looking at me through the lustful eyes of a man who sees only the sexy woman of his current dreams.

What if… what if he wakes up one day and sees his "dream angel" is just an ordinary woman with whom he has little if nothing in common?

Will he – how did Mel put it? Oh yes, turn his back on me and find a new goddess, until she too shows a fault of some kind?

Oh God! I don't think I could take that!

If I don't have Niles' love and support behind me, then what happened back at the Wayside Inn makes me no more than a brazen tart who left one man at the alter on a whim and stole another away from his recent bride.

I'll be the kind of woman that mothers all over warn their sons about – a home wrecker!

Oh… oh…ohhhh!

O.K. – now I've gone and done it - made myself all depressed with me imagination running wild again!

I am just being paranoid.

I've got to stop doing this!

I know everything will work out!

I know Niles loves me and won't dump me!

I know it!

I really do!

Now I think I'll nip out to the kitchen and get a bite to eat, but then I'd better get to bed.

Tomorrow I have to meet a fellow Brit named Ferguson.

He's Frasier's new butler and the "Lord of the Manor" wants me to show him around the apartment. I kind of like that I won't have to do housework any longer – makes me feel more like part of the family and less like the hired help around here.

On the other hand, I also feel a bit nervous – I'm not used to sharing the Cranes with anyone. Frasier tells me he was some old rich twit's butler, so I do hope he isn't too much of a stuffed shirt. Bad enough living with one Frasier – with all that's on my plate right now I don't know if I could handle living with two of them.

Good Night diary.

Stay tuned for Part 23 (to be continued)


End file.
